The snow continues to fall but the sun peeked out this afternoon a little while so we all had to go out and play. It was too gorgeous to be inside so we put on all our layers of winter clothes and had a little fun. I bought a pair of snow shoes over a year ago and we haven’t had deep enough snow to see if I like using them, but now I know - they are great! And, I can run faster in them than Kaleb can cross-country ski, as we found out today in our front yard (Kaleb loves to compete). But the fastest mode of transportation in the snow around here is the spark (see photo). It has to be the best invention I’ve come across yet and I’m totally in love with it.About thirty years ago, when cars were not that common in Norway, every household had a bike with a basket and a spark, so the women could get to the store and buy groceries any time of year. The spark glides farther if there is some weight on it so it’s perfect to set a child or a bag of groceries on the front seat. It works like a scooter, where one foot stays on while the other foot kicks along (“spark” means “kick”.) It glides incredibly well on ice or packed snow and going down hills on it is way better than on a sled because I can stand up, which I like better than being down close to the ground. It’s easy to turn or brake because everything is so flexible and it goes much faster downhill than Kaleb on cross-country skis, as we also found out today. (I like to win.) I am so thankful we now have a spark and that I’m married to a guy who can fix anything. (Kory’s job this morning was to repair it.) Woo hoo. I like it. I love it. I want some more of it! But I must say, I’m glad to now be sitting down as I’m all sparked out and my legs are a bit wobbly. I hope winter lasts a while longer.
Today in class we learned more grammatical rules about things for which I’d just as soon not repeat as it might give me a headache. I’m feeling hopeless when it comes to learning the details of this language. And I hate the fact that some students in our class don’t understand why I find it so difficult. I want to hate them, but they are too nice, so I can’t. I just have to keep reminding myself that I’m older than their mothers and when I was their age, I could learn things quickly too. One of them asked me today if I had any old photos of myself because she suspects I might have been quite the babe in my day. I couldn’t have felt older, or more over the hill, but I’m at least ten years older than her mother, I’m sure, so I must seem almost grandma-like to her. And my pal Vestina asked me today why I wouldn’t consider dyeing my hair. I guess the grey is just a bit too much for her. It is for me too, but I told her I’ve never dyed my hair and I never will because I believe hair dye can cause cancer and she just laughed and called me a “crazy lady.” She’s called me worse, but I love her anyway.
The Good Teacher Inga had us listen to a children’s song today and see how many words we could identify. It was a song about a classic children’s character here named Kaptain Sabeltan (he’s a pirate). I guess there is a TV show with him on it and a theme park in southern Norway with all the characters from the show. What was funny about the song was the word used for “treasure,” as in “pirate’s treasure” - which is “skatt.” I’m sure it’s not just a coincidence that it is the exact same word they use here for “tax,” which I’m bracing for now that we are in tax season.
Inga told us today the number one hobby in all of Norway is remodeling and/or redecorating homes. She said because Norwegians spend so much time inside, and because they have a good economy and can afford such things, most people spend the bulk of their free time fixing up their houses. Whether it’s repainting, tearing out walls, adding decks or extra floors or garages or buying new furniture, it’s what consumes the most time for everyone. Kory said he went for a walk through the neighborhood the other day and there wasn’t one house that didn’t look like it was having something done to it. And most people do the work themselves. There is something in a Norwegian’s DNA that just makes them good at construction, no matter what job they have (cousin Odd is the only exception to that rule, but he tries). I even heard that about 50 years ago (and for many generations before that) it was expected of every young man to have built his own home, with his own hands, by the age of 25, whether he was married or not. It was some right-of-passage thing that has now obviously gone by the way-side, but perhaps has morphed into this whole home remodeling thing. So it seems a man’s home here really is his treasure, and ironically, there is no tax on it.
