This week, my mind is beginning to more fully shift back to school. My thoughts have been gently and abruptly pulled to school all summer by emails and Facebook. But now with summer winding down, it makes sense that my attention is increasingly focused there. The prevailing thought that distracts me from school is the traveling I am still doing. I am actively collecting more memories and photographs, but I was slapped in the face by a couple of thoughts and of course I need to write it out.
First, teachers are watching from the sidelines while decisions are made about how best to teach, yet again. Honestly, what the fuck, but we'll get there. And second, I was told I get this wide eyed, child-like look on my face when I see something I find fascinating, whether big or small. It is just a flash and could never be captured in the time it takes to open a camera, so I just have to trust that it is an observable phenomenon. What does this have to do with teaching? We'll get there too. So bear with me as I wander and spin through these thoughts for you. When I travel through Norway I find myself wishing I could have pictures of everything I want to remember because there is simply no way I can remember all of this. There are thousands of sights that catch my eye from big scenery to tiny details. I could fill the memory of my phone ten times over and still you wouldn't really see Norway how I do or even in an authentic way. As it is, I have hundreds of photos, but I still don't think I have done my view, the scenery, or the country justice. Classrooms are the same way. You could see thousands of photographs of my classroom and still not comprehend the true atmosphere of our community. There is too much at work in there between the personalities, the activities, and the interactions to think anything short of immersion into the room can do justice to all a classroom becomes over the course of a year. Essentially, you can only visit and get a general feeling unless you visit often and meaningfully. Likewise, when I see Norway, I see it as a visitor from a place with a landscape that is in stark contrast to the steep forest paths running along water. This dissimilarity tilts and colors my perspective. It allows me to see with different eyes, but also shields me from things natives know. For instance, one thing that I find fascinating is slugs. I've seen leopard print and bright yellow ones, but I didn't know they were such an invasive species and actually dangerous to animals that use the grassy areas they squirm across. So while I am busy featuring Slugerella on my Insta, the Norwegians wish I'd toss some salt on the pest and move on. For the record, I cannot kill slugs. Shhhh. Again there are parallels in school. When someone comes into a classroom, it is from a divergent landscape that tinges their view and allows them to lose focus or never see important considerations of the natives in the room. While you might see students that know exactly how to navigate procedures, you might have missed out on all the hours poured into practice. While you might be impressed with the ease in which my students navigate technology and are amazed with all they can accomplish, you might miss that, at least in my mind, art hasn't gotten a fair shake in our lessons. You can see snapshots, but unless you engage the members of the learning community, chances are slim that you fully comprehend all that is contained in that quick peek of yours. Until you are willing to pick into our brains, you simply won't know all the behind the scenes. This applies to me as well you know. I have constant conversations with my students and other teachers to be sure I am more than a passive visitor in the learning community we are building. While I might be one of the major architects, that doesn't mean I can't lose touch. This is something I have noticed when I am capturing these 'perfect' shots of my trips, no matter the lighting, composition, or effort, I simply cannot capture all that my eyes and mind see. Many times the pictures seem to speak for themselves and the viewers feel wonder, but I still feel the need to explain the shortcomings or give more information. I am not saying that I haven't taken captivating photos only that there is a piece of the magic missing. You might think videos would be different and give a more complete view, but I have tried, without success, to do that as well. This reinforces to me the importance of valuing more than the aesthetics. Also, it never fails that as I am taking photos that I miss shots. Just this last trip, I was sending a snap of a gorgeous fjord to my kids and completely missed a pair of wooden fisher statues. Now, I know, I could go back and take the photo, but that simply isn't always feasible or even always possible. Sometimes the moment or magic has dissipated. SO. MUCH. THIS. In a classroom, there are thousands of small moments of discovery, understanding, and delight that guide interactions, instruction, and learning, but that could never be documented. How do I possibly explain decisions like focusing on extra digraphs instead of long vowels because spelling increasingly long English words motivated my students to absorb more? How do I explain that while we didn't meet half of the year's objectives, my students made amazing progress and far surpassed just as many objectives that aren't technically 'ours' to chase? When anyone would choose to look at just a snapshot, it becomes easy to make rushed judgments about my teaching or anyone's quite honestly. This is one reason why conversations become so necessary. This is true with photographs and traveling partners as well. Even in sharing photographs of the same places in Norway, I find such disparate subject and composure. Of course everyone is filtering through their experience and expectations and ultimately finding their own beauty. The conversations are enlightening, and I am still astonished with what can be learned if you open your mind to someone else's experience. For instance, I will never see myself in the way other people describe me, but their reality is valid. So I need to have those conversations and accept that piece of reality into my own and possibly give it more weight because of the dark filters I know exist in my own view. And here is where I come back to teaching. If something as seemingly black and white or static as photography can be so open to interpretation, what does that say about the teaching profession? What can I do to make sure I am giving validity to others' realities while remaining true to the lessons and professionalism I have gained over the years in the industry? How can I best impact the gaps in understanding of teaching and classrooms? What conversations can I have to fully advocate for my colleagues and students? How do I use my position to enhance education? My mind is awhirl. At the same time, I am watching people completely removed from classrooms with wildly different priorities make decisions on behalf of those in the trenches without having meaningful conversations or full understanding. This isn't new, but there is the added challenge of COVID19 which brings a host of concerns that those outside looking in cannot fully comprehend because quite honestly those inside are struggling to understand all the implications. Now I will grant you this, the teaching profession faces a unique challenge in that most people think that since they have been a student, and for so long to boot, that they understand what it takes to teach. While I find this annoying and short-sighted, it is a reality that needs to be addressed. So I sit here looking at photographs letting myself get lost in the snapshots of this country I am falling in love with. I am also taking some time to write a few notes about why I have taken time to commit the sites to photograph so that someday when memory fails me, viewers can still find some of my intention and delight in the sights. In the meantime, I have decided that I can take the first steps of fully recharging myself for the coming school year and planting the seeds of thought in your minds. For all my teacher friends, I need you to hear these things. I see you doing ALL the hard things. Everyday, you love, wonder, and pour your whole self into your career, your calling. You balance your life and don't miss opportunities to give of yourself. Don't forget to recharge, and more importantly, don't forget to have a meaningful plan of direction so you don't get lost wandering. Don't despair that you can't do it all because there are others who place their values differently and advocate for things outside your top five. Have the conversations and face your realities with wisdom and trusted colleagues. Finally, please know somewhere deep in your mind and heart that you are appreciated and loved beyond measure for all you give to all of us. I don't think all people know how to express this, so let me say to you, I love you on purpose. You are a group of resilient fucking rockstars that help right the world when so much goes wrong.
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I am a handful, okay in all honesty, maybe two. I am unapologetically messy, childlike, and independent, and I come with a complete set of baggage that would make Paris Hilton flush green with envy. However, I have never understood those women that live by the motto of, "If you can't accept me at my worst you don't deserve me at my best." Good lord the stress of someone seeing me at my worst has me on the verge of hyperventilating even now. Yet here I am signed up for exactly that, someone seeing me at my worst. How in the world did I end up here anyway?? When I was younger, I never really dated in the true sense of the word. I met Jeff when I was fourteen and was married to him three days after I turned seventeen. Literally, I grew up after I got married, and much of that growing up was attached to another person. Gawd, let's save that particular disaster for another post as this one is taking a different path. Anyway, to say I was uninformed and ill prepared for dating is much like saying the Titanic had a minor hitch in its maiden voyage. After my divorce, it took me two years to move to a new home and another two to even think about dating. My, oh my, the conversations I had with myself about this. Did I give my marriage enough mourning? Would my kids be okay with mom dating? Do I want to have another person in my home, my life, my business? Did I really even know what dating was? I don't remember all of the inner dialogue, but I do remember the final decision. I'd been in therapy working hard on myself. I deserved a do over, a restart. Hell, I was more than ready, right? RIGHT? First of all, there were some pretty big barriers to overcome. As a general rule, I am too independent for many men's liking to the point I am referred to as a bitch instead of dealt with seriously. Secondly, meeting someone at work would be near impossible as teaching is a female dominated career with most of the male teachers falling into one of three categories, already married, administration AKA the dark side, or a coach who would effectively abandon you in the sports' seasons. So imagine my surprise to meet a fellow educator who was single and even in my district! Let's just say that one ended before the first date when he told me he was a widow...OF SIX MONTHS! It did not help one bit when he reassured me that he and his wife had discussed that he absolutely should move on after she died. Dating was not off to a promising start. I put a lot of energy into creating eHarmony and Match profiles. I had friends proofread and look at the guys, and I was prepared for the inevitable messages and unsolicited information by setting up a proxy phone number so I never had to give me actual number to anyone that might make it through initial screening. Initial screening, like it deserves such a thoughtful title. There is barely a second thought when you are blocking messages like "You have the most fuckable lips I've ever seen" or "I'd love to see your tits. Send a pic." Where to even start with these asshats? I mean how disappointing that they couldn't even put a little wit in there. Even a tired pickup line like, "As long as I have a face, you have a place to sit," shows a little more effort than "send nudes." The only memorable one that didn't make past initial screen sent a glamour shots style photo where he was peering over his sunglasses, seductively, in his mind anyway, with a message that simply said, "How you doin?" I still have friends that will pull their glasses down to peer over and ask, "How you doin?" Or even send sms of themselves doing "the pose". Cough, SHANIE, cough. There were a grand total of four guys that made it past initial screening. Guy number one made it all the way to day two of messages before I asked him what he did for a living and he responded by sending me a picture of his gun, cuffs, and badge. Bai Felicia! Mildly scary, but I was in control. I needed to remember this was not going to be instant success. I would hang in there. Guy number two was the first actual date. He made sure to let me know how much money he made/how successful he was and insisted on doing all the textbook gentleman things like pulling out my chair and buying my meal. When I offered to pay my half he replied, "Every man accepts this as the cost of dating beautiful women." Okay then, you can see your chauvinist ass to the curb because I'm unwilling to accept the cost of dating a mildly attractive pig. Guy number three showed so much more promise. He knew all about educational issues, and he was much more free thinking. He had been out of his relationship for a year, and he even agreed before the date that we would split the cost. See? I'm learning. We agreed on dinner, but during dinner decided to go see a film after. So, I get home and in my mind all I can do is pick it apart, so I Google and Facebook stalk him. When I find his ex wife, I could only laugh. She could have been my twin and she was...drum roll please....A FIFTH GRADE TEACHER. Fuck man, I've heard of having types but come on. But I am in this, I want this to work, and two dates really is just a drop in the bucket right? I know, cue Gordon again! Guy number four was the atom bomb that ended dating for me for another four years. Great on paper and in conversation. Still learning from previous lessons, I Googled/FB stalked him BEFORE the date only to find that he had about seven match accounts. Not only that he changed his profile name while we were chatting, so I messaged that I really wasn't feeling the date and didn't appreciate his duplicity. Now, we all know I have a mouth but I swear I was polite as polite can be to this man even though every fiber in me wanted to bust his balls over an anvil with a hammer because I KNEW I couldn't be the only one he was trying to play. The messages I got back were atrocious and terrifying. He accused me of being the typical American fat ass that couldn't find a date on a hog farm and sent me a picture of his dick so I could see "what I would be missing out on." There were about six screens full of bitter, venomous messages. I didn't know the term "incel" at the time but have come to understand his skewed perspective through internet humor and memes. While I didn't take any of his bullshit personally, I did decide to delete all the dating apps and any intentions of dating. I simply did not want a man if these men were representative of the men that wanted a woman. So after a short, okay, okay, LONG hiatus of four years, I decided I really wanted someone to share the view with me. I would be walking along the water or in the forest and just long for a person to be there. After much thought and weighing the pros and cons and adding in the culture barrier, I decided to give dating another try. My life and mind are in such a different place than when I was in the states that I was just sure this was the right time. The initial screening of men was ending with nearly everyone in the not suitable category. Let's start with my fairly unreasonable expectation about tobacco use and misunderstanding of marital status. In Europe, it is really common to live in committed relationships without being married, so when it ends you are considered separated. Separated in the states means you have yet to pull the trigger on divorce, and you're looking for the out before you do. Also, there is definitely a stigma (again states only) attached to men that make it past 30 or so without being married. Once I waded past that, there were plenty of twenty somethings that didn't believe I was actually my age or were looking to check the MILF box on their bingo card. NOPE! There were the 60 somethings looking for a trophy girlfriend or, my personal favorite, a side chick because their marriage was so boring. NOPE! One guy sent me messages offering to be my servant. He said he would happily drive me around or do my laundry. Another sent me a message saying he could set me up in a flat and pay all my expenses to just be a mistress. WHAT?! But I could take respite in the fact that there were no messages asking to see me naked and when I turned down the generous mistress offer, the reply was simply, "Good luck finding what you are looking for." I went on a grand total of one date. I can only compare this man to Sheldon Cooper from the Big Bang Theory. He was the sweetest man with a great wit and intelligence, but he made my awkward ass look like a social butterfly. He shared his passion for coaching volleyball and watching cartoons, and by the end of the date I knew he was on the outs with his family, had been on 57 first dates and zero second dates, and his only long term girlfriend had left him because he wouldn't have sex with her. WHOA NELLIE! Just when I started to think maybe I needed to hit the pause button again, life stepped in. In true #nellie, Corona hit and all but stopped the progress on dating. I mean it was like the universe was saying, "Girl just fuck off with this soul mate nonsense." I had a lot of conversations but you know you don't want to date someone that is eager to meet you DURING A GLOBAL PANDEMIC! Between online teaching, helping friends, and thinking about how to transition to in person teaching, I wasn't thinking so much about seriously dating anymore. It was obvious that the guy I was chatting with was going to be better as a friend, and I was so buried in work that by the time I would get back to the app I would have notifications piled like autumn leaves needing to be cleared out. So when I agreed to a date on May 21st, I didn't have that high of expectations. My core thought was that I really needed to work through my dating anxiety, bite the bullet, and just go. There were so many times I typed a message with some lame excuse to skip or cancel. Fuck's sake I had to sit on the knowledge that this date was coming for a full week. WHO DOES THAT?? Plus, he had asked how old my profile pictures were like I was trying to scam him...pffft. To his defense, not many would guess my age correctly and the shock is real when I talk about my kids. Regardless, I decided I'd have coffee with this guy and be about my business with a date under my belt and a boost of confidence to go with it. The date got off to a #nellie start when he said he was going to be just a little late, so I left later and dallied on my way stopping to take photos in order to not be TOO early. I showed up to him standing outside the restaurant. First of all, what Norwegian in the history of Norway shows up ON TIME when they say they will be a little late?? I've come to rely on that time cushion I've observed from meetings where the start is 8:00 and people start milling in at 8:05. Did I mention the bakery we were meeting at was closed? Yeah...he's just ridden two and a half hours on his motorcycle to not have coffee with me. He says, "I know a place but you'll have to get on my bike. I brought an extra helmet." GULP! So I said yes. We rode to the ocean and had coffee at a seaside cafe. He lost a clasp from his jacket watching jellyfish with me. I am not sure how long we sat and chatted, or how long he stared into my eyes in a deeply unsettling but intriguing way before we rode back to Sarpsborg to share a pizza. Then reluctantly, I left, but I walked home on clouds. When he asked for a second date, I was shocked. Surely he had to notice I was so nervous I couldn't eat at the first cafe for fear of vomiting. He had to notice I was as graceful as a newborn giraffe and as cool and collected as a pot of boiling water. But he didn't want to wait and asked to come back on the weekend. So I said yes. Now if you are like me, you are probably asking how do you top a motorcycle ride to the ocean for a second date. You bring a waffle maker and take a girl shopping for all the supplies to make waffles for her, that's how. Then you take a tour of the old city complete with a tour of an art gallery and of course, ice cream. You don't get to where I am without being deeply suspicious of people especially men, so I scrutinized his words, clothing, gestures, actions, all of it. I was looking for that loose thread that would unravel him. The one thing that would provide the escape hatch. But instead I noticed he is friendly with everyone. I don't think he knows a stranger. When I found the courage to return his gaze, I saw only kindness in his eyes. He has an easy laugh and a knack for saying things how he sees them in a refreshing way. Even my reclusive boy Janus didn't hide from him. Wait, what?! And yet I keep digging. It's like I can't help myself. We moved me to a new apartment together, and I waited for him to boss or puff. He didn't. We built IKEA, and I waited for him to cuss or lose patience. He didn't. I gave him my blog, and I waited for him to feel pity or run. He didn't. He has this very patient way of dealing with me that is so foreign in my mind that I still stare in awe sometimes. Instead of asking to hold my hand he said, "I can see you are used to walking alone by the way you always keep your hands in your pockets." Instead of telling me I don't keep enough food in my house, he said, "Your fridge looks like you could leave tomorrow and never look back. I hope you stay longer than that." When I was driving and we were close to having an accident, he simply said, "You might want to watch out for that one." He tells me everyday that I am beautiful and loved. And THAT is how I found myself letting someone see me at my worst and pinching myself to be sure it is real.
Jaren, Norway is where I spent my last weekend. The sights might not be anything like last week's trip to Lysebotn, but this was a dream tour for me. It is really easy to get caught up in the tourist spots and the big scenes when you visit a country. I mean everyone has that proverbial bucket list, or in my case an actual working document, but I digress. For a long time I have believed that to truly see a country, you need to visit the smaller places or have an opportunity to experience the day to day. So Friday I hopped on a bus and headed north. My tour started when we packed up to visit Storelgen (the big moose) near Atna. I know, I know, "but Nellie that sounds like a touristy site"...just bear with me here. All along the way, I got to hear so much history and so many facts. Our only limit for the day was being home for Taco Friday, so off we went with a carafe of coffee and without a plan except to see the big silver moose. I never even had to ask for a stop to see anything because he was so excited to share and paid close enough attention to when I was looking extra long at things. The lake we passed is Mjøsa lake which is the largest and fourth deepest lake in Norway. As a comparison for my Kansas friends, Waconda lake is about 56 km², Tuttle Creek lake is about 50 km², and El Dorado lake is about 33km², but Mjøsa lake is 362 km². The world's oldest paddle steamboat, Skibladner, is housed on this lake. While I didn't get to see the boat this day, it is close enough for a return journey someday. The next highlight was Gjøvik a place where Tony spent his summers. I got to see a round restaurant on the corner that reminded him of a trip to the states, the homes of aunts and uncles, and the swimming hole where he spent his summers. While the stories all make the experience so much more personal, my favorite is about his grandfather. His grandfather was a city gardener who took it upon himself to give the city flower beds an upgrade. His boss got quite a surprise the day he drove out to see what all the buzz was about the city flowerbeds. The tradition of the planting continues to this day. Those stories are the ones that make the sites so much more magical. All along the highway were ski resorts, ski slopes, and remnants of the Winter Olympics in 1994. Quite honestly, I never gave much thought to how far spread out the Olympic venue would be or how many structures would remain in use. Even though he doesn't share my enthusiasm for ice hockey, I was promised a return trip to Gjøvik's mountain hall ice hockey rink and I cannot wait! If I had one picture of the trip I wish I could have gotten, it is the view of Lillehammer on the hill at the end of the lake as you approach from the south. Just wow. I was regaled with information about the Olympic village and the slopes. Here I have to admit that I have never been skiing or even seen a ski slope in person until this summer. So now I have seen a few slopes and courses, without snow of course, which really helps a person gain perspective on the size and scale. Who knows, maybe I will even be sharing ski stories this winter. Back on the road, there were so many scenes that could have been straight from a Field and Stream magazine. I was reminded of a conversation about how it goes when you ask Norwegians about their success with fishing. I was told Norwegians answer the question, "Are the fish biting?" by saying, "No they aren't. They're so nice you could walk right out and pet them." I guess no fisher wants to give up their secrets. The next stop was another stave church, Ringebu Stavkirke. While I didn't find this one quite as charming as the last, it was so impressive in stature. I am consistently in awe of the age of the history here. Some of the headstones were from the 1700s. The last weekend before school starts, I get to see at least one more of these churches. A swing by Rondane National Forest and a quick stop at a chapel with a turf roof, and we finally made it to the moose. Along the highway there were painted and plain moose racks hung on the trees, but I still haven't seen a moose. It was when I was enjoying my plain waffle (sacrilege by the way) after our visit to the moose that I realized how this trip really wasn't about the moose at all. Saturday and Sunday were not days that a person would write home about so to speak. We walked the dogs, shopped for groceries, cooked together, sat in the hot tub, and visited friends. I got to see the church where his confirmation was held and a forest/hill his teachers took him to when he was young. I was given cook books to learn some more traditional Norwegian cooking and shared the American version of grilled cheese (or at least as close as I could get). We watched a film about a Norwegian soldier in WWII named Jan Baalsrud , my second in as many weeks. Nothing that was on my bucket list for sure, but exactly the experience I hoped to have when I came here. Authentic. Personal. Shared. For me it was a feeling of being anchored or connected in a way a job cannot secure a person to a place. So if none of that is worth writing home about, why I am doing just that? Because as wonderful as the last couple of weeks have been, I have a lot weighing on my mind. I learned someone close to me has COVID, and I am an ocean away. I have family and friends applying for concealed carry licenses and purchasing weapons. I watch the disagreements and chaos surrounding masks, the economy, and school starting. Facebook and US and Norwegian news keep me abreast of all that is happening in the states. I have my own worries about the start of school here and my new position, and I wonder when I will get to see my boys again. I think all of us are carrying extra weight these days, and I am watching the different ways people are handling their loads.
Honestly so much of it sickens and saddens my heart to think about and at times feels overwhelming. So, I cling to these experiences and the mundane, normalcy of walking a dog, and I am reminded of a post I wrote before about what home means. These new skills of balancing mental health are certainly getting a good workout, but I am so proud that I am doing it. While old thinking nags at the edges, it doesn't take root. Not to mention, the healing of nature is a walk away and the cat snuggles never stop. And if all else fails, Tony said he will take me to a famous international restaurant that will remind me of home, the Golden Gull. TL;DR Vacationing in Norway is like watching postcards photos flash before your eyes. Lots of photos and commentary. On July 3rd, I loaded Janus into his taxi to the cat kennel and hopped a train to Jaren, Norway, to begin a vacation with a group comprised of five Norwegian, four Danish, and one American traveler. The trip, which had been a year in planning, was organized by the Norwegians as a way to show the beauty of their country to the visiting Danish friends. My invitation was last minute, but I am so thankful that I was able to take the trip. Originally the trip route was to go Åndalsnes, but snow was forecast across the mountains, so we went with plan B and 'only' (according to the Norwegians anyway) went to Lysebotn. Honestly, I would have been excited to go anywhere and was giddy to know I could mark Lysefjord from my bucket list. There was absolutely no disappointment for me to learn of the change in itinerary. Now, we all know how life goes for me right? This dream vacation on the back of a motorcycle started with me reminding myself, as I have been told so many times, there is no bad weather in Norway, just bad clothing. Mind you for this SUMMER vacation, I was dressed in wool underwear, jeans, riding pants and jacket, and then rain gear on top. I was almost warm enough. HA! It would be impossible for me to recount all the sites and wonders I was able to see, but I will do my best to hit some highlights that really made an impression on me including pictures when possible. While later in the trip, I started to become a pro about shooting great shots from the back of the bike, that first day I was simply too overwhelmed to do much but stare in wonder and of course worry about staying dry and warm. When we finally stopped for a meal for the day, I found out I was dryer than some of my fellow travelers, but I was colder than all of the native 'this IS the warm summer weather' crew. Interesting side note, I never thought about how much character it takes to walk confidently through a restaurant while in riding gear. There were people staring, a few pointing, and even some that moved to new tables to be away from our group. It was truly people watching at its best. I had to admire my traveling companions as none of them seemed to even register the behavior of the on lookers. My trip to the restroom, which took fifteen minutes and the exertion required to strip a snow-suited toddler, afforded me two more opportunities to experience walking through the gawking diners. By the time we left, I was doing my fourth pass through, and decided I would do my best the rest of the trip to ignore any spectators we encountered. Our stop for the first night was Gausta, and all I can say is that even the views from the cabins were breathtaking. That night, I was introduced to the tradition of a huge shared dinner followed by a couple of drinks while the day was processed. Prior to this, I had thought my Norwegian listening skills were coming along nicely, but one meal with excited Norwegian and Danish speakers had me reconsidering if I knew any Norwegian at all. Gawd! Good thing they were so gracious enough to speak some English so I would feel included a bit more. We ended up staying for two days which was a bonus because not only did I get to climb to the top of Gaustatoppen, but I was able to see the sun mirrors at Rjukan. Climbing Gaustatoppen was completely exhausting but the views were something tough to even capture on film. Many times I found myself stopping to admire the sights stunned by the thought that I was even there to see it in person and at the same time speechless to describe the emotions brewing inside. I was able to play in snow, take stunning photographs, and share every step. The experience was simply overwhelming. It turns out we were lucky in our timing because after about ten minutes at the top, clouds descended and obscured the views. We decided to ride the train down instead of climbing like our Danish companions, and thanks to a breakdown, we arrived at the bottom at the same time as them! The cost of climbing the mountain was that I missed out on a tour of a museum dedicated to telling the story of Norwegian heroism during WWII. If you have never read about the Heavy Water Campaign, you should. I was able to hear from others and see pictures, but it was still a tough choice to make. That night we had another big dinner followed by a surprisingly fun game of stacking plastic chairs. Above all it was a chance to bond with people I hadn't spoken with much yet, but it was great fun to see the creativity and competitive spirit among friends. We only managed to stack all of the chairs one time despite reassurances that it was enkelt. I laughed until my cheeks hurt, ate the saltiest popcorn I have ever tasted, and loved every minute! The next morning, I learned an important lesson about etiquette and Norwegian values. Being in a cabin with ten people and having to use all the brain power I can muster to understand a fifth of what I was hearing left me exhausted. I needed some quiet time, so I skipped breakfast...holy. fuck. folks. I was talked to privately by three people about how little food they saw me eating, so I promised to never skip breakfast again. Before we set off for our next destination we took a short detour to Rjukan so we could see the Sun Mirror or Solspeilet. This was another bucket list item as I could not wrap my mind around a city that got so little sunlight in the winter that they needed to build a mirror to capture even a couple of hours. I can remember telling the boys when I moved over here that the city existed, but it was a happy surprise to know my efforts to pronounce Rjukan in Norwegian would be rewarded with an actual visit. The rest of the day was spent whipping my head from side to side trying to capture the memory of every centimeter of Norwegian beauty to store away for later perusal. We stopped at a waterfall, I tried reindeer pizza, and again was left feeling like my mind could simply burst. Even now I am struggling to choose photos that represent the trip well and can give you a small taste of what I was able to drink in. One of the biggest highlights of this day was stopping at the stave church at Eidsborg. Hearing the history from a Norwegian made it that much more special because you can hear the pride and reverence in the story telling. I am not really sure how long I stood silently staring but obviously long enough and lost enough to be unaware my photograph was taken...several times. The night ended at cabins with one of the best views of the entire trip. I even woke Tony at 5:30 to go take photos with me when I was sure no one else would be there. If I've learned anything about the people here, it's that they are not early risers on the whole. So, I am not sure how excited he was about being woken that early, but he let me drag him to the beach. Along our route the next day, there were so many times I wanted photos, but it was cold so I had to be choosier than usual. The sheep and RVs were out in full force making sure we were sharing and carefully traversing the roadways. There were snowbanks taller than me, and again I spent most of my day in awe. One stretch of the road in particular sticks in my mind still. There were rock cairns built everywhere. One only has to remember that these are built by people and look again to be filled with wonder at the sheer number of people that have come before them in recent times. However, the most beautiful part of this to me was the fact that it wasn't graffiti or destruction marking their visits but carefully stacked stones echoing the joy of their creator's visit. For lunch, we stopped at a restaurant called Eagle's Nest, or Kjerag, and it is all the name conjures. The view was by far one of the best of the trip, and most of the group was happy to stop there. Four of us were brave (or crazy?) enough to ride to the bottom of the fjord. It was a road full of hairpin turns and steep grades, but, my word, the view from down there. My mind would have been full of regret had I missed that chance. Kjerag/Lysebotn was our final destination before heading back toward home. We didn't follow the same path, and there was so much more to see that I could fill another month of blog posts with photos and stories. But I have spent nearly the entirety of this post focused on the sights when in reality it was the people that made the trip so outstanding. Standing at the top of the fjord by Kjerag was one of the most magical moments of the trip for me. The sights were spectacular and I loved every single minute of this trip, but nothing will come close to the excitement and wonder in the eyes of the Norwegians seeing their home country through the eyes of a visitor and this site in particular for the first time themselves. They were pointing, speaking quickly, and scampering all around the site, and I don't think the smiling stopped until lunch was on the table. I watched as they hurried to see from the restaurant balcony and saw how they beckoned each other to come explore each new sight. Truly it was astounding to witness the sheer joy on so many faces at once. At first the thought of the trip had me a bit anxious because every fellow traveler, save one, was a virtual stranger to me. I knew I would be well outside my comfort zone in many ways, but I was determined as usual to push past my discomfort and enjoy the trip for the opportunity it was. I needn't have worried though. This group of people are simply wonderful humans. I was able to get to know each of them in unique ways that will make the trip even more unforgettable. From the biggest bear of a man with hands delicate enough to kick my ass at plastic chair stacking (enkelt my ass, Rune!) to the mother hen (tusen takk, Ann-Beate) who would sneak in small conversations in Norwegian with me so that I didn't feel so awkward at my toddler talk, I felt effort from everyone to get to know me better and make me feel welcome. There were morning conversations with Mette and political and strange American law talk with Dennis. Maj took the time to explain the cairns to me and shared a story of how she and Dennis build one everywhere they visit. Thomas and Niels climbed Gaustatoppen with Tony and me and made the climb even more fun. Jan Iver sang American rock and roll with me and reminded me how well I know the Norwegian word 'grøftefyll'. And of course, Tony was my personal chauffeur and banker after the bus wouldn't take my 'American money'...sigh. I couldn't have planned a better vacation for myself or hand picked better traveling companions. This is what saying yes looks like! Lately I feel a bit of a carefree Pollyanna with my posts. It's true that I intentionally focus on the positive happenings in my life right now. This is purposeful but doesn't mean that my road is simply smooth sailing. Many days I read the news and scroll social media only to experience a healthy dose of sadness, disgust, and shock.
March 12th of this year, our staff was called into a meeting to learn about the Norwegian government's protocol for handling COVID19 which turned out to be distance learning for all students, indefinitely. Any teacher knows that the lion's share of motivation for teaching comes from seeing those faces everyday, from seeing the a-ha moments, from those little hands and hugs. Distance learning was a sucker punch to the gut, an emotional mugging that left me reeling and searching for a way forward. This was true for many teachers, and some were better equipped to handle it than others. As an introvert and a tech whiz, there were parts of distance learning that hit my wheelhouse and allowed me great success. At first I stumbled and struggled to find balance of work and life, but eventually I was able to achieve that as well. The technical aspects of teaching were well in hand. The emotional aftermath of the decision to close schools was a different scenario altogether. In addition to guarding my own mental health, I was watching two teachers struggle to the point of needing intervention and help. Many hours were invested in helping these teachers come to terms with the decisions that needed to be made which included leaving their positions to return to their home countries. I learned through this experience that I was actually in a healthy enough place to help someone through a mental crisis while maintaining boundaries and my own balance. This was a hard earned lesson though, and it left me exhausted and vulnerable. The school wasn't over for the year yet, so I had to pull myself up by my bootstraps and carry on. There was much left to accomplish even after we were allowed to return to the building. There were protocol changes, scheduling issues, and teach exhaustion on top of trying to keep six year olds a meter apart without any toys or books. This school year turned out to be far less than ideal in my mind, but I am still proud of what my students accomplished in spite of the storm we weathered together. I won't go full into detail, but I will say that it is a year I would not want to teach again. However, with all the precautions in place and following protocols, Norway saw the trend lines for COVID turn in the right direction. Even as I type, things are not completely back to normal, but people are doing right, mostly. We still have the meter distance, customer limits, travel quarantines, and other rules in place to keep a handle on virus spread, but it is a hopeful situation. Then my heart turns to the states, where my family lives. I am not there, so I can only take in information from news sources, social media, and family and friends, but I feel so heartsick thinking about the current state of affairs in the United States. It is hard not to see the science denial and selfishness of many people, but I know from experience the precarious tightrope so many Americans walk to simply make a living and survive. Maybe most disheartening of all is to have family members tell me they are so happy I am NOT there to see it in person. I mean can you imagine that for a minute?? Right now I know that because of how this is being handled, I cannot visit my children, and they cannot visit me. I know that should my ex husband contract COVID right now, my boys would likely watch their father die. I know that my teacher friends will be forced to live another year of the unimaginable in education. And this is only COVID thinking. I haven't even touched on politics, police policies, or Black Lives Matter. So yeah, my heart is heavy, and I have much to mull over. Again, I am purposeful in how and what I share on all of these topics because I don't want pulled into drama and debate, but here I am going to take a stand. I am going to start taking social media breaks and limiting my access to those who are instigating others purposefully, denying science, and spreading false information. I do not have the time nor the energy to refute and defend for all these posts. So if suddenly you find yourself unable to see my posts it might be because I believe Donald Trump and his administration are a dumpster fire of a presidency, Black Lives Matter (and fuck off if you say all lives matter because that is a given), Police reform needs to happen now, more people need to fact check and get educated on issues before they share on social media, and people should shut up and put on a mask and social distance. Perhaps the saddest part for me is that I lived through the period of time after the terrorist attacks on September 11th, so I know America is capable of great things and great unity when they are called upon to rise up. Right now, it seems that division and politicizing everything has taken precedence over caring for humanity, and that makes my heart sick. If you feel you need to hit the eject button after reading this, I understand and wish you well. Even though I am heartsick and saddened, I still remain optimistic because I have seen the best in Americans and know we can do better if we can commit to love on purpose and live like we all belong to each other. |
Nellie HillJust a woman leaping outside her comfort zone and telling the tale. Archives
April 2024
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