spaghetti

There is very little more hilarious than watching a sixteen month old eat spaghetti.

gh-------------------Æ_hk dg 8ilumjj jyjm fggy h z
(Eigir says "Hi!")

norsk christmas makes me itch

Christmas in Norway is really long...which is both good and bad. I think it is great that the parties and good food and great company last longer than two days, and it is a natural build up into the New Year...one enormous party, if you will.
But, it also means that you have to wear tights a lot. Every day is a dress up day and I have to admit that in the last few years I have not been much of a dress up girl. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy dressing up every now and then, but I start running out of clothes fast. Like after the first day. And tights itch. And they serve as an uncomfortable reminder of the fact that waistlines tend to expand a bit during the Holidays....as if we all didn't know that already and somehow needed a circulation-cutting piece of nylon around our midsections that says "Hey! You sure are eating a lot of salmon and cookies and stuff!" Thanks, tights. You're coming off and I'm not putting you on until next Christmas.

goo yool oh goat nitt oar

Once again, I find myself pulled northwards into the part of Norway everyone - except for those who live here - forgets about. But this is the best part of Norway...both the darkest and the lightest, both the coldest (temperatures) and the warmest (people), both the northernmost and the southernmost (if you turn the globe upside down.) It is a long bus-ride to get here from Tromsø, but the 500 kroner I save by not flying is good for the "poor student" budget. My whole AFS family lives up here, as well as my "contact" family, which makes for lots of laughter and "coziness" - as they say here. Kari, my host sis, has moved home from Stockholm after three years...it is great to see her again. We, along with Greta, Bjarne, Hilde and Eigir (what a cute little dude) decorated the tree this afternoon and commenced the approximately five days straight of eating. Mmmmmmm.

Merry Christmas, everyone. I wish I could be two places at once, but I don't expect teleportation to become a reality before 2057...at least. Until then, I'm sending warm holiday wishes in all directions.

And happy 2006!

R

not so lonely in tromso

Most of my friends have gone home for the holidays...some to other countries, others just to another city/town/village in Norway. I was prepared for a few loooong, lonely days in Tromso, but luckily - and to my pleasure - I have been keeping very busy. Maybe too busy. I have been running errands, looking for and making inexpensive but creative Christmas gifts, reading aloud from The Body Silent onto an Mp3 recorder, transcribing interviews, eating salmon with Silje and her folks, and baking with Tove and Espen (and Curt, when he ventured into the kitchen.) Contrary to popular belief, I am becoming a bread-baking expert. And when I say "bread," I really mean "boller/roles," and when I say "expert," I really mean "novice." Oh well. I can knead with the best of 'em.

Yesterday there was a bright full moon out at noon, and it had settled itself between two houses up on Kongsbakken. I tried to capture it in a picture, but it is much more vivid in my memory.

norsk jul nummer 4

I am officially done with semester one (of four). I had my oral exam on Monday, and although I didn't do so hot "in front of the firing line" - as Marjaana says - my essays pulled me through. I'll be here in Tromso for about a week before heading up to Alta on the 22nd. This will be my fourth Norwegian Christmas and I am looking forward to spending time with my host family and other gamle kjente.

Yuhu for norsk jul!

you can take your social commentary and...

My friend Stian told me that there wasn't enough social commentary or political critique in my "onjo." At first I thought: Maybe I should write more about important political and economic issues and current international events. Maybe I should go on for endless paragraphs about democracy and globalization. Maybe I should complain a lot about the social systems and structures that uphold and promote all the "isms" of the world. Maybe my "onjo" can save the world!
And then I thought: There are enough boring farts out there doing that already; wining and complaining and secretly hoping their "onjos" get famous and win Pulitzers. If people want social commentary, there are far better and more legitimate ways to get it. Try reading international newspapers, or subscribing to journals, or reading books, or talking to people, etc. etc. But don't get it from "onjos," where it'll eventually get lost among the bazillions and gazillions of e-tons of worthless shit out there in the www.
I'll stick to keeping people updated about what's going on in my life. You can get social commentary elsewhere.

extreme pepperkaker, part two...and three

After four days straight of pepperkakering, our peace palace (or whatever we decided to call it) is complete. To be honest, I did a pretty crappy job on my section of the palace - the "America" section, which was based on a bizarre combination of a Pueblo dwelling and a reindeer farm. You'll be able to tell the parts I did because they look like the work of a three year old. The others did an excellent job, especially with the igloo, the minaret, and the Roman pillars. I will post photos of the masterpiece soon, because I'm sure you are all very curious now.

extreme pepperkaker, part one

I was feeling a little down yesterday because the annual Christmas cookie baking festival at my grandparent's house in Richfield was happening...without me. But lo and behold, just when I was about to go to my room and cry, my friend Silje invited me and some friends over to make a pepperkaker house with her and her mom.
(No, I wasn't really going to go cry in my room...but the thought of it sure tugged at your heart strings, right?)

Before I go any further, I must clarify something right away. Silje's mom is an expert pepperkaker maker. I'm serious. She has written books about it and won contests and could probably pepperkaker the planet if she put her mind to it.

With that said, our pepperkaker adventure began as any pepperkaker adventure might. Silje's mom gave us some basic tips, showed us examples from her book, and told us that we were the creative geniuses and she was the technician. Any plan we devised could and would be fulfilled.

And then she dropped the bomb: "By the way, your creations are going on display at the town hall...and they will all be part of a pepperkaker replica of the city of Tromso."

She suggested that we design our own Tromso Peace Building, or something new and creative like that. After discovering that our creations were going to be under public scrutiny, her idea of a group project sounded pretty good. We began the creative planning process...being sure to include architectural styles from all seven or five of the world's continents - and an ice-skating rink. (There was some heated debate amongst the designers regarding the accurate number of continents in the world...but the Americans are right. You can't just leave out South America and Antarctica.)

"Extreme Pepperkaker, part two" will be coming soon.

swamp violence

I am supposed to meet this woman whose last name is "Myrvold" today at a Peace Celebration at a local elementary school. Hanne and I are representing Redd Barna (Save the Children) at this event and this "Myrvold" lady is our contact person. Although the Peace event should be both fun and strange (as most things in Tromso are), I think the woman's last name is even stranger. "Myr" means "bog," or - as I prefer - "swamp." And "vold" means "violence."
(I choose to disregard the fact that "vold" also has another meaning, having to do with part of a farm, or something boring like that.) It is much more intriguing to think that this woman's last name means "swamp violence." It conjures up all kinds of images and stories in my head.

It's so nice to meet you, Ms. Swampviolence. What a lovely dress you have on.

a picture says a thousand words

I'd like to say that I figured out how to add photos and links to my "onjo" all on my own, but I have to give credit where credit is due. (Takk, Scott.) But, I think I can probably do it on my own next time...maybe.
So, here are some pictures (under the "Rachel's Photos" link on the right side of this page) that you can browse through if you please...they are only from Gdansk and Oslo right now, but more will show up as stuff happens here in dark Tromso.
Take it easy.

fieldwork in Snakistan

Trying to come up with a thesis topic is a daunting task, so I was thrilled to stumble upon the perfect research project while reading The Onion today.

"Citing crumbling relations due to years of protracted french-onion diplomacy, the president of the Central Asian doritocracy Fritolaysia withdrew the country's ambassadors from Snakistan Monday."

It was like a calling from above. "Rachel! Go to Snakistan, and fast! They need your expert conflict-resolution skills."

Probelm solved. Thesis topic in the box.

my little Polish vacation

Poland was a good little vacation. Silje, Marjaana, Hanne, Stian, Scott, and I spent about three days in Gdansk and half a day in Sopot, which is like a suburb of Gdansk. I did, indeed, go Gdigital in Gdansk, so I will post the pictures soon. (That way you can see what we did, instead of reading lame-o summaries of it all.) I did not, however, get any pictures at the Solidarity Museum, because I bought my camera the day after we visited it. The museum was my favorite part of the trip, and it was humbling to think about how the events in Gdansk in 1981 were unfolding just before I was born. It demonstrates the power of people...regular, working people.

Hanne and I spent two days in Oslo on our way home from Poland. (Our classmate Berit kindly let us stay at the apartment she shares with her boyfriend, and she took us out on the town on Saturday night.) We met Andre and Hans Olav for lunch on Sunday, did some winter jacket shopping, ate Thai food, and met some of Hanne's friends from Lillehammer and Os. I also started reading "A Prayer for Owen Meany" because it is one of the favorite books of both my dad and my sister. It is great to be reading some fiction for a change.

PS: There was disappointingly little stone-wash denim in Poland. I did see a few leather pant-leather vest get-ups, often coupled with a big ol' mullet. Not to mention a car with a tiger painted on the hood. Grrrrrrrrr.

this is what I got in the mail

When I got home from Oslo/Gdansk yesterday afternoon, there were three post-cards from my Aunt and Uncle, a package from Marit and Adam, and a Village Advo-kit from Concordia Language Villages waiting for me in the mail. Adaire and John had also just been in Poland, although they were south and we were north. Marit and Adam not only sent me two hilarious tee-shirts (Lake Wobegone and one with a Muslim, a Christian, a Buddhist, and a Jew holding hands and jumping joyously into the air together), but three bags of Chex-mix! (I have already devoured two of them.) My Village Advo-kit included materials that will allow me to set up a recruitment stand for potential CLV staff members here at my University.