Packin' Up

Boring, boring, boring day. It rained and drizzled all day while we were hauling stuff down to storage and running around dropping things off here and there. The boredom was punctuated only briefly as we stopped off at Tobias’ house to pick up some things Kaleb left there. It was then I realized Tobias needed a note from his parents in case he needs medical attention while in America, and then it dawned on me he might need more than that just to get into the country. I sat for a few panic stricken moments checking different websites to see how to assure the officials he was not being kidnapped from Norway and taken home to America to become my child slave. I’m not sure we are totally out of the dark on this one, but I’ll be praying hard when we arrive that all goes well. All I could find out was that he needs a notarized letter from his parents giving us permission to travel with him, for which dates and where he will be staying. I hope that is enough. It never even crossed my mind that we could have any trouble getting him into the country, so I do pray we don’t.




Kory and I bickered all day as to what to leave in our condo and what to put in storage. He wants our place looking more like a hotel; I want it to feel personal and like it IS someone’s home people are staying in. We couldn’t disagree more, but since we don’t have any rentals lined up, I didn’t want to pack up our whole household of clothes, kitchen and bathroom things and decorations, only to have to unpack again in nine months. I absolutely hate packing and moving anything, so this was not a fun day for me.



One thing that’s been on my mind lately that I haven’t written about is how incredibly patient and quiet Norwegians are. (You’d never know Kory and I have any Norwegian blood in us at all if that were the only criteria.) I’ve seen this behavior in action time and time again. For one thing, no one EVER honks a horn for any reason. I guess it would be considered rude and obnoxious. One time we were walking on the ferry past all the cars that were lined up waiting to load. Several cars had already driven onto the ferry, but there was one car in line with a woman driver, and she was digging for something in her purse. All the cars behind her could have easily gone around her as all the other lanes were empty, but no one did. They must have sat there waiting for about two minutes. Not a single horn was beeped and no one cut in front of the line, they just waited, and when she was done, they all drove on. It was such a foreign experience for me to see that kind of tolerance. That was definitely an event that would never take place in America.



Women love to stop and chat with each other when pushing these incredibly large baby carriages around. Often times they block an entrance to a store, or an entire aisle. I’ve never seen anyone try to scoot past them, or say “excuse me” and try to get by – they just stand there waiting for the conversation to be over, and then they proceed. It’s so weird! And at the grocery store, customers have to bag their own groceries, so the entire line of people have to wait until the person is done with all the bagging and move out of the way before anyone else can get checked out. No one complains or lets on they are in a hurry. Sometimes that inefficiency drives me nuts, but waiting one’s turn is obviously part of the socializing that begins in the mandatory pre-school they have in Norway and it’s definitely part of the tempo of life here.



A few times I’ve been in the grocery store and I’ve seen someone I know, so I hollered their name to get their attention. Every single person turned their head and just stared at me. No one hollers to get anyone’s attention in Norway – they simply go over to the person and speak softly. I felt like such a moron the first time I did it, so I had to do it again. The next time I saw someone I knew, I hollered their name just to double check the experience, and sure enough, the room went silent and all heads turned to see who in the world would yell in public like that. Now I know, and my moronic days are behind me. I’m learning to adapt to this foreign land, just in time to be leaving it once again.



(The photo today is the backyard of our friends that live out on the island of Valderøya – their view is of two neighboring islands - Godøya has the mountain which has a lake at the top and that’s where their drinking water comes from. The flat as a pancake island to the right is Giske where the most powerful Viking king in all of Scandinavia once lived. I love their yard because it’s NOT boring.)