Over and out

This is Oslo-based blogger # 8459 reporting for duty for the final time. The cases are packed, the bedroom is empty and sparkling, and bloody summer has arrived! The omnipresent Oslo themometers were showing 20 degrees, and, as if by magic, its population got out its collective pair of shorts. At Sognsvann lake, I even bore witness to some bikini-clad bathing by some extremely brave and rather overly-optimistic Norwegians.
And I'm getting that all too familiar feeling which is somewhere between deep melancholy and jittery excitement which comes from leaving a foreign place you have come to love and going back home to a place you know you love. But this time it doesn't feel like I'm going back, but more like I'm moving forward. Forward to a new stage of my life - my wanderlust satiated (for now) and with a desire to be a real adult person with a real adult job. I just hope I can remember this feeling... I think looking back over what I posted about being an assistant will help me a great deal!
It's satisfying to look back on myself a year ago, just stepping out of the 'Durham bubble', knowing nothing of these Nordic types, ignorant of caviar in a tube, the wine lottery, the great outdoors, how to pronounce ø, æ and å, what is feels like when your hair freezes, how to make a campfire in the snow, living twelve floors up, caramelised goat's cheese, online washing machine reservation systems, russ, beers that cost £6, Gustav Vigeland... the list goes on. On the train back from Sweden I composed a list of my best memories of Oslo, and here it is for your delectation:
1. Listening to various French people fantasising about cheese and/or dishes you can make with cheese.
2. Drinking beer with Marion and M-H on Marion's roof terrace.
3. The times my lessons kicked ass.
4. Walking along ski tracks with Mark Bennett.
5. M-H's face at the julebord (staff Christmas party).
6. Hiking in Stockholm with my bottes de sport.
7. Early evening on the quai in Copenhagen.
8. Taking notes during Meet Joe Black on my first night in Norway.
9. Drinking afternoon tea with M-H in Walberswick.
10. Being told my English was bad by a waiter.
11. Sunbathing with my brother at the General's bath house at Oscarberg fortress.
This list of course means little or nothing to anyone else, but they were the times I was the happiest (and/or highly amused, which amounts to the same thing) during my sejourn in Oslo. To that list (which I made about a month ago), I would add:
12. Being at the 17th May parade.
13. All the times I went to cinemateket with M-H and Jordan.
14. Goofing around with Chi-He, Jo and Meghan in Vigelandparken.
15. The arrival of Spring.

On that note, it is time to bid this blog adieu and turn instead to the problem of how I'm going to get my suitcase shut...

17th May

For this post I will take you on a U-turn from the whiny scepticism of my previous effort to a joyful account of what took (and always takes) place last Sunday. It was Norway's national day, on which they celebrate the signing of their constitution on 17th May, 1814. Now, I was suprised to find out that Norway has only been independent since 1905, having previously been ruled by the Danish and later the Swedish crown for over 400 years. Due this fact, the Norwegians have cultivated an extremely strong sense of national identity and love of their country which would quite possibly make us baulk back in England. Seeing the Norwegian flag hung from every house and waving in every child's hand, I realised that when I see the Union Jack, I'm more likely to think of the BNP, and when I see the St. George's cross, more likely to think of skinhead football idiots, than of the country of which I am a citizen. This is a kind of patriotism unrelated to the success of the national football team or the 'British jobs for British workers' Brown-bullshit we get fed at home (nice image), it's more an appreciation of living in a democratic and friendly state and living in a beautiful country (which just happens to be bloody freezing, but that's by the by). I think it's a nice idea. That's not to say it doesn't border on the arrogant and snobby among some Norwegians, of course, but in general they showed me that patriotism doesn't have to be cheesy or repulsive. As is tradition, the day started for me with breakfast at a colleague's house on her rooftop terrace in the brilliant sunshine. We had got lucky, last year it snowed. The party consisted of three French people, one Norwegian and yours truly, so heavily-weighted towards foreigners, but it didn't seem to matter. Afterwards we walked down into the town centre amidst a jubilant carnival atmosphere, the crowd peppered with women and men in traditional costume, the bunad. Those not wearing the bunad were either dressed up to the nines, or tourists.
A girl wearing a bunad, leaning out of the window of Stortinget (the parliament) to watch the parade.

We then came to Oslo's main street, Karl Johans Gate, where the childrens' parade had already started. I have rarely seen so many people gathered in one place in my life:
Children from all of Oslo's schools were parading, in a parade so long it took 3 hours to finish. Away from the parade, people were gathered around the palace and in the neighbouring streets, tucking into the traditional dishes of hotdogs and ice-cream (not at the same time!) and generally having a good time. The 'russ' (school leavers) were strutting about like they owned the place and enjoying being rowdy and pissed, celebrating the last day of their celebrating.
Pictured: some russ partying on top of their bus at Solli Plass

After the childrens' parade there was some traditional choral singing on the University steps, which was most excellent. We rounded off the day with dinner in the park and a few drinks, by which point we were exhausted and somewhat less than ready to go to work the next day. I can say the same of the russ who had their first exams the next day too!

Alexander Rybak - The Second Coming?

Eurovision Song Contest 2009: Alexander Rybak celebrates. Photograph: Dmitry Kostyukov/AFP/Getty Images

You may or may not be aware that Norway won this year's Eurovision Song Contest with their entry Alexander Rybak and his crooning/fiddle-toting/catchy smash, Fairytale. Pretty good for one of Europe's smaller nations, who were erstwhile not known for producing international pop sensations and usually over-shadowed by their Scandinavian neighbours in that department (sorry, but Abba beats A-Ha hands down). But still, when I talk to people I find myself thinking... he won the Eurovision Song Contest for Christ's sake, not the Nobel Peace Prize. Coming from Britain, where Terry Wogan's derision of the greasy backing dancers and all too frequent bum notes is an integral part of the commentary, I was under the impression that no one takes it seriously. And we all know that the voting is politically motivated and has very little to do with the songs (see - Britain's null points the year of the Iraq war)... Even the sheer cheesiness of the music and the campness of the artists is enough to render itself laughable, surely. As my French colleague said, if it's a woman they are ridiculously slutty and if they're a man they are "deeply gay".
But nevertheless, it's a big deal here. And I'm not going to take that away from them. It's just a complete culture shock. Check out this article from the Guardian:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/organgrinder/2009/may/18/norway-eurovision-song-contest-heidi-stephens
It turns out that a Guardian journalist wrote a review of Eurovision on her blog, saying, among other things, that she hoped Alexander Rybak would get poked in the eye with his violin bow. Now, to be sure that's a bit of classic journo over-exaggeration, but little did she expect the way the Norwegians were to react. You can see in the article that two of the national newspapers here, VG and Dagbladet, picked up the story, spinning it as if The Guardian had been cruelly slating their little Alexander out of spite, presumably because Britain always does so badly and we are jealous. One commentator made the point that yes, Norwegians 'do understand irony', which is of course true, but they also have the inclination to take themselves and matters of national pride extremely seriously, which to a briton is cringe-worthy and uncomfortable and Just Not British. Self-derision is practically a national sport.
The best commentary left by a Norwegian comes at the end of the article:
Me1981 said: "Heidi we Norwegian DO understand and use irony, we have a very good sense of humour...the thing is, when we all read you blogg the first time we were drunk out of our minds..and when norwegians get drunk,not only do we get so waisted we're lucky if we're able to walk the next day-but we also get very excited..So if you felt attacked..believe me none of us even remember regist. on Guardian websight in the first place. I only found out since the sight was still showing on my computer the next day..I was like"What the ¤#&¤#? When did I reg here??"

Sums it up?!

In future I think I will pass all comment on this guy - if I let on to anyone that I hate his song I'll probably be deported...

Ok, I've been bullied into posting something else... it's fair to say my heart's not in it, but I'll give it my best shot. The problem is is that a travel blog is essentially for recording things you find amazing/think will be amazing to others. So I think the reason I've had nothing to write over the past few months is that I've just stopped finding things amazing. I've started eating makerel in a can with tomato sauce and being overly direct with people... I think I'm becoming Norwegian! Well I couldn't beat them, so...

In all honesty I've still not got used to expecting nothing of my pupils and to them fulfilling my every (lack) of expectation - I still tut when I see one kid passed out in the back while the others spend the whole lesson on Facebook, but I've given up hope of changing them. Kind of sad, more for them than for me, but true.

I still really love teaching and staying in Norway, and I have been overjoyed at the arrival of Spring, but I just feel like I've stopped learning things. I think I've just got into a routine. It's the same priniciple as if I had blogged about my everyday life as a student in Durham - I would've thought everyone else would be finding it as about as interesting as I was. So it'll soon be time to head on home I think! And stop this blogging malarky.

Just for now, a little word about the Norwegian exam system. Today, the students found out which subjects they will have to take an exam in. YES, THEY DON'T HAVE TO TAKE AN EXAM IN EVERY SUBJECT. They just had a lottery and let fate decide... Of course. So instead of the 11 exams I had for A-Levels, they have two. Or maybe three if they're really unlucky. But then again, they have been getting pissed everyday for the last month (see earlier post about Russ), so I guess two is all they can manage! In the subjects they don't take an exam in, they just get the mark their teacher gives them for the year. Strange but true!

So Sunday is the 17th May i.e. Norwegian National Day, so you can expect a reportage from there...