As I type this, I am sitting on my aunt's couch relaxing while it rains outside. This trip has been a long time in the making. I had planned the trip early in the year and asked for leave from work, but I refused to believe it was real until I landed and had my arms wrapped around my son. The regulations seemed to constantly shift and even countries where I might just have a plane change had their own rules for entry. I was in fear of being turned back the entire trip. But here I am having hugged and dined with my family many times. I feel like I can breathe again. To say the last few months have been hectic and rough would be an understatement. Work has been heavier than a typical year of teaching primarily because of the regulations surrounding red level measures for school. We balanced maximum class size, limited teacher contact, meter distance, and not sharing resources with all of the normal responsibilities of teaching. Several teachers simply didn't have the fortitude to last through the conditions, and we were forced to replace teachers many times over. In some cases, leadership wrote reports and covered classes until we could find another person to cover the classes. Outside of school, there wasn't much relief as Sarpsborg was one of the heaviest hit areas for COVID. Stores and restaurants were closed or offered very limited services. Basically, for eleven weeks, you could only shop at the grocery store, liquor store, and pharmacy. Some stores offered an online shop and pick up service, but the lower limits for orders was high for a person who might only want one item. Additionally, households were not to mix and all people were instructed to limit their interactions with other people. As a teacher who has very little control over the size of her bubble, I did my best to only interact with NBF and the bonus kids. On top of all of living with the anxiety that the trip I so desperately needed wasn't going to happen, I also knew that there was a possibility of changing jobs next year. Before I left for the trip, I made the decision to give up my apartment. I loved my apartment, and this was just one more blow to my well being. I was terrified that I would return from my trip to learn I had given up this place for nothing. I could feel the depression darkening the edges of my life, and I felt it even deeper as I pulled into myself and old habits. In order to prepare to end the school year remotely, I wrote six weeks of lesson plans and homework, trained a substitute, and preplanned as much of my coordinator job as I possibly could. I feel I was well prepared as far as work went. I left knowing the school was returning to yellow learning conditions which was going to provide some relief to all of the staff. Even though I felt tremendously guilty leaving my students, I knew I needed this for my own heart. The parents of my students have been understanding and even gave me a really great going away gift complete with masks for my trip! When it came time to plan my trip, I gave myself ten days AFTER my last day of work before I flew so in case I came in contact with someone and was forced into quarantine I would still be able to make my flight. Those ten days were spent pacing NBF's house, making lists since I couldn't go to the store, reading (obsessing over) the regulations for three countries, and gardening. We went for a few walks/day trips but the clouds and rain hung around and hampered enjoying time outside too much. All said, it passed quickly, and too soon it was time to say goodbye for now. For all my worries, the trip was uneventful. I had all the paperwork I needed, the planes ran on time, and it was not crowded at all. Hearing "welcome home" from an immigration officer was much more emotional than I would have imagined. Hugging my kids and aunt was all I had imagined. While I have many hugs and visits ahead, that moment when I realized I would actually get to spend time with my aunt before she passed was a weight lifted. She even commented that the longer she hugged me the more she felt me let go until it was gone. I wasn't able to explain until days later why she felt it. By far the worst part has been the time difference. I have been here for nearly two weeks, but I have not adjusted so well to the time change. I have managed to handle all of my tasks such as address change, getting my things from storage, and getting a new phone for my American number. It was nice to dig through my things but not so great to have to thin them down to decide what would be sent to Norway. In the end, three suitcases are being shipped ahead of me. One treasure I found is a quilt that my grandmother made, but that I had never used. My aunt convinced me to put it on my bed here and use it. After all, what nice occasion am I saving it for? I've tried to send photos back to Norway to the ones waiting patiently for their turn to come. I've struggled to send enough photos to NBF because it is so hard to share the essence of what makes a place so special. It isn't the landmarks. It is the hundreds of tiny things I didn't realize I missed. Just last night I got together with my kids and cooked burritos for them. That simple act of normalcy took extra significance after being gone for so long. It was a wonderful evening full of memory sharing, catching up, and laughter. Hugging them goodbye was hard but seeing the smile in my son's eyes when he said I will see you later this week was priceless. I am going to soak in every minute of this trip.
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With winter winding down to snow that still needs to melt and short bursts of snow, the plants are soaking in the sunshine and warmth to green up and bud. The longer days are appreciated after the dark winter brings, and the country is coming alive once more as people bask in the sunshine. By longer days, I mean if you are up at four in the morning, you can see the sky lightening and full dark doesn't come before ten. It is much needed after a dark, locked down autumn and winter. As I do my usual people watching, I notice swimmers, joggers in shorts, people walking in sandals, and a disconcerting lack of jackets. For Pete's sake, I can still see my breath walking to work in the mornings. I understand they are more acclimated than me, but I noticed something else. Norwegians do not acknowledge spring. We are barreling straight into summer. It is actually rather endearing. It is as if they feel if they shorts and sandal hard enough, the seasons will bend to their will. That simply by their collective force of will, summer will appear. Perhaps this is on me as I missed the memo about our civic duty to be outside actively ignoring spring. Maybe I should be joining the summer summoning dance that looks suspiciously like roller skiing instead of shaking my head at the absurdity. However, one thing I know, I have yet to hear a Norwegian call this spring. I have only heard summer in reference to where we are in the year, and this has been going on since last month. "The days are getting longer...winter is almost gone and summer is soon to be here." "The trees are budding...winter is almost gone and summer is soon to be here." "The snow isn't sticking...winter is almost gone and summer is soon to be here." In a conversation with my substitute, she asked if it was okay for the kids to eat lunch outside. I said I thought that sounded perfect and that they could use the fresh air. She said it had snowed on her way to work and she hoped that was the last breath of winter because summer was here. Even NBF sees double digits in the temperature and says, "Yup. Summer is here." Never mind the fact that today in Kansas, the temperature was higher than any temperature I have seen in all of my time in Norway...including summer. Even on one of our weekend walks, he was at it. I stopped to feel the fuzzy buds of a tree and to take photos. NBF shared that he used to pick those for his mom so she could put them in water to bloom. He talked about how all of his friends did the same, and that THIS tradition is when you knew summer had arrived. I will be the first to admit, the Norwegian outlook has impacted me in a positive way. Who am I to argue with people that defy temperature to live their best life? While I come from a very different experience, I do admire the values I see living here. Somehow they manage to balance a blunt realism with hopeless optimism. Their dry, dark humor only accentuates their clear view of how the world, and more specifically their world, works. They are a deeply compassionate people concerned with the well being of others while fiercely private and respectful of other's privacy to a degree that to some would seem almost stand offish. At dinner, they will reach across the table to grab what they need rather than inconvenience someone by asking them to pass it. In conversation, one syllable 'mmm' and the sharp intake 'jo' suffice as hearty answers unless of course one is speaking of the weather. During COVID, the inconvenience they have voiced the most disapproval for was the inability to visit their cabins, and I think that is about the most Norwegian thing ever. Closed stores, limited purchasing, no restaurants, limited social contact, but damn you government for closing access to my cabin. In general, their relaxed attitude and slow pace have been a great way for me to reconnect to myself and explore life in with a different perspective.
So when I watch them blissfully skip past spring to embrace all that summer brings, how can I see this as anything but another example of the exuberant optimism and can do attitude of the Norwegian people? Here's to summer...even if I am still bundled in my coat with my hat on to warm my ears...may it bring all we expect and then some this year. |
Nellie HillJust a woman leaping outside her comfort zone and telling the tale. Archives
April 2024
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