Osøyro, Norway

Three peculiarities greeted me since I last wrote here: they had to do with chickens, rain, and the Norwegian language.

Let's take things in their chronological order. As I was about to turn off the light last night, Ed texted me an update. He had found a dead chicken in the garage. Immediately he called the Wisconsin Department of Agriculture, which put him in touch with the district vet. Two dead chickens in one week? We needed to consider the possibility of bird flu. His update: the vet said "impossible. No new cases have been reported in Wisconsin. It must be the heat and dehydration." Well no, we know that it's not the heat. Our hens have seen worse and they know where to go for fresh cool water -- it's in several places and we keep it well stocked. And now here's the further update: Ed writes to tell me that at night, to his shock, he put away five chickens into the coop.

How could that be?? We had six. One died last week. And he had said for sure that the one found in the garage today was dead. Indeed, he swore he buried her. Come on, you mystery lovers! Solve this one! (I will tell you my conclusion at the end of the day.)

Next, the weather: I woke up after a most fitful sleep to this:

 

A break in the clouds!

It's another "how could that be," given that the chance of rain for today was tabbed at 99%. And again, there is a logical explanation. There will be rain. Today, tomorrow, the next day. Just not this morning!

 

 

Behold! I can see the bits and pieces of Norway!

I tell you, the world looks far different when 1. you have slept well and 2. when it's not all hidden behind pelting rain.

And now for my third peculiarity: I go down to breakfast rather late. After 9 (and they only serve it til 10). The vast dining room is pretty full, but it's all self-serve so there are no waits involved. And here's the odd thing: I hear absolutely no English. It's all Norwegian. Or maybe Danish or Swedish -- I have learned that they all have the same word for "thank you," (though weirdly they're spelled differently: "takk" in Norwegian, "tack" in Swedish and "tak" in Danish), so similarities must abound and I would not be able to recognize the differences. 

So where did last night's Americans go? Did they all eat early? That doesn't sound like my country men and women. Were they all visitors, maybe for a night out? From a cruise? Or a tour? It's a mystery. The age range is greater today as well. I see many little blond children. And a few solo visitors. Women, my age. Yay Scandinavians: you're not intimidated by solo travel.

And now is the time to take a walk. Because there will not come another such Norwegian opportunity.

 (the hotel, from the outside)

 

 

 

 

(common theme throughout Osøyro -- bronze statues)

 

 (wait, are these pigs having a little fling here?)

 

 

I walk mostly along the shore (so quiet! no cars!) all the way to the town center. A half hour promenade.

(I'm thinking they may have regrets in placing two of the destinations up for viewing these days)

 

(I read that the Eurasian magpie is one of the most intelligent birds. The brain to body ratio is large -- same as in apes and humans. And, it's the only non-mammalian species known to pass the mirror test -- the one where you recognize yourself. Here's our smart bird! )

 

 (I so associate Norway with apple trees!)

 

 

 (along the way)

 

 

 

 

Osøyro, in the greater Os district, was no great tourist destination in the past and it still isn't that today. 

 

 

There is, for example, not a single souvenir shop, or even a general store with a few souvenir items thrown in for good measure.) Sure, there is my venerable hotel. And I think there are a couple of other guest houses. But historically, this was a wood carving, and small wooden boat building area. 

(Indeed, the hotel shows off one such pair of boats.)

(And downtown, I find another being built to replicate the old craft and style of row boats.)

The somewhat larger version of this is the symbol of the Os region and it appears on the Os coat of arms. [Less noble claims to the area include the building of a Roma house for children nearby: kids were sent here first upon the application of the parents but later, without family consent. And worse still -- this is where the Germans placed one of their concentration camps during the World War II German occupation of Norway. History is not always kind, even in these beautiful and remote corners of our planet.]

In the last decade, Osøyro has put the motor on for transforming itself into a more tourist friendly area, but it still is rather tourist-empty. And for me, that's great. During my entire walk, not only did I not hear any English, but in several places I visited, the vendors did not speak much English. Unusual in these Scandinavian countries, but refreshing, too.

Back at the farmhouse, I had scanned the area on google maps for coffee shops and bakeries -- reliable local places I think give me a good idea of a community. I found two that appear to be well liked locally and I visited both, just to see where I should go for my early afternoon coffee.

I do love the pistachio and cardamon rolls they have in Scandinavian countries. It's a shame that my hotel doesn't have them for breakfast. Or perhaps not a shame! Eating large breakfasts is already very tempting for me. I am such a fan of so many "morning" foods! There were plenty of good ones at the Solstrand already. 

(I asked this vendor if she spoke English. Reluctantly she admitted to it, but was quick to point out that she is also good at French. Am I reading into it a bit of distrust toward Americans at the moment? Maybe. 71% of Norwegians think Trump is awful for America and for the world. Those who do like him tend to be young men who align with extreme right wing ideology, which the remaining Norwegians also view as a threat.)

There are two more places I visited -- a small shop that I think may be a thrift store (most of the stuff here is not translated into English and I only use Google translate when I am super perplexed!)...

(I was perplexed here: it means "between fjords and mountains")

 

(I like the images on these cards in the shop -- they seem to celebrate the female "spirit!"

And secondly -- I poked into the building behind the wooden boat. I thought it might be some cultural center or exhibition hall, and it may be that at other times, but right now they are setting up election booths for voting, which in Norway apparently begins on Monday September 8th. They're getting ready!

From there, I started a hike suggested by a chart on the walking trail. It's not very well marked, but between google and their sketch of it, you can figure it out easily enough what your options are. I did not go very far. Maybe 45 minutes each way. 

(at the beginning...)

 

 

There were hills and pretty views...

But the clock was moving quickly into the afternoon and I wanted to stop at the cafe before it closed.

Here's where I was met with a complete language barrier. No one admitted to knowing any English. So we did the sign language thing.

(My food association with Norway is their sandwiches with tiny shrimp. This one is in a baguette. They ran out of the open faced ones. Good enough! And of course, that pistachio cardamon roll.)

(popular selections!)

 

 

 

 

(mother, proud grandmother, and mildly interested friend) 

 

 

It's 4pm before I am back at the hotel. The rain is holding off still! This is the time to try the pool. First, the outdoor one...

(a selfie? In the pool??)

In the late afternoon, people gather here to... chat.

I linger for a while, because it is really cool to be in a warm pool on a relatively cold day, but obviously I am not in my social mode nor do I speak the language, so I go inside to their big pool and do some boring laps. There was a time when I could go on forever, but these days I'm no longer a fan of going under water and I can tolerate doing the breast stroke back and forth, back and forth, for only for so long.

Finally, I do the sauna. Again, very popular! And very lovely! I tried once to convince Ed to build a sauna hut at the farmette, but his interest in that project was and is pretty much below 0, so I do saunas whenever I'm in a hotel that has one.

And now it is evening: dinner time. Going all fish tonight: salmon to start with and cod for the main. Desserts? A mixture of the uninteresting. At least I skipped the sweet non-alcoholic wine!

(I'm in the middle of a good book!)

I have a late evening, staring out my windows at the rain and eventually simply listening to the roll of small waves along the shore.

Two things for the post's end: first, the chicken mystery has a clear explanation. Our dead chicken from a few days back wasn't dead at all. She was indeed sick and eventually she must have simply stayed hidden in the garage, living out her last days in hiding there. She came out and keeled over the day Ed found her there. So, five remain.

And on a more chipper note -- about the rain: It will continue. All day tomorrow and the next day as well. Because of this I changed things around a little. Turns out I am not good at just sitting in my room enjoying the solitude when there are so many interesting things to see and do nearby. More on what these may be... tomorrow!

with love... 

Osøyro, Norway

Did I doze on the flight to Amsterdam? I cannot tell. I put on a sitcom and let the episodes fly on my screen. The seat belt sign remained on for a good part of the flight, which, I think is more the result of Delta's episode last week, where a flight (to Amsterdam!) experienced sudden turbulence and 25 people had to be transported to the hospital upon landing. I didn't think our flight today was especially stressful, but then maybe it's the bubbly wine speaking. I went off my "no more alcohol" lifestyle for the evening, to celebrate the fact that I managed to actually pack my suitcase in a timely manner.

In Amsterdam, I had a three hour layover, which frankly is just fine. The passport lines are almost always long, and the walk from one end of the airport to the next is equally lengthy. With so much time, I was worry free and even gave myself a long pause over coffee and a "breakfast" of a sweet roll (or two), even though it was already past noon Europe time. 

(breakfast in Amsterdam... airport.)

 

(sweet and caffeinated)

 

 

From Amsterdam I flew to Bergen -- Norway's second largest city. Though don't let that lead you to images of a behemoth. Bergen's population is just under that of Madison. 

It's a short flight. 90 minutes after leaving warm Amsterdam, I enter a world of clouds, cool temps, wind, and rain. And it will remain thus for the three days that I am here. And by "here," I do not mean Bergen. I only flew there to be on the western coast of the country. From Bergen Airport, I cabbed over (or really under -- we went through a tmountain unnel that was at least six miles long) to Osøyro -- a small town on the coast of the Bjørnafjorden. In this southwestern corner of Norway, I found the very old (accepting guests since 1896), and very simple, airy and lovely Solstrand Hotel. 

On the one hand, I wish it wouldn't be raining and so cold here. On the other -- I don't care that much. I'm not here for the hikes. And I'm on a half-board plan, so I eat dinners at the hotel. As far as I can tell, this place is perfect for what I need: time to unwind. To think. To look out at the fjord. 

I'd only been to Norway once before -- back in 2007 (thus documented on Ocean!) and it was a very weird trip then: I flew to Oslo from Turkey with my daughter and left her in Norway's capital with her dad for a few days (he had an Oslo conference), while I went off to see the fjords. I took the train almost to Bergen and then eventually made my way to Lofthus. That turns out to be not so far from where I am now, but Osøyro has the advantage of being very easy to get to from America. Fly to Bergen, then half an hour later you are at the Solstrand. Remote, quiet, beautiful -- and yet I can get here and out again without great fuss.

My first impressions? Well, it is wet and so the views out my room are muted. But there are windows on two sides... 

 

... and Norway's fjords are stunning even in the worst weather.

There is a heated indoor/outdoor pool, open late into the night. I understand people also swim in the fjord -- there is a path to a pebble beach. 

 

 

A sauna will warm you up afterwards. All this appeals to me in principle. But, not tonight. For this day, a brief hotel stroll, a peak at the pool, the fjord, and then I am in my room, unpacking a little, getting ready for dinner.

There is some choice: you can pick a meat, a fish, or a vegetarian option for your main course. The meat today happens to be local duck and I do eat fowl so duck it is! With a scallop appetizer.

There is a dessert buffet which honestly sounds great but is on the excessively sweet side of things. I also ordered a glass of sparkling non alcoholic wine and that, too, was too sweet and juicy, but the local non alcoholic beer was great.

I look around me: a good chunk of the dining room is speaking American English. The rest -- Norwegian. Older couples, younger couples. Just a few children -- I cant see this as an optimal spot for wee ones. But so very good for a slow and contemplative few days. That's the plan: look out at the water and unwind. Get the knots out. Clear the head. Sounds wonderful, doesn't it?

with love... 

 

departure

Well, the good news is that by 1 pm, I am packed (my flight leaves at 6:10pm). The bad news? There is plenty of it in the press. Nothing in my life comes close to being horrible. "Mildly annoying" at worst and perhaps "a small challenge" if you want to think positively about life.

My small challenges? Here's one: the air is lousy once again. This affects Ed more than me, both because he is more sensitive to pollution and, too, I'm going away and he isn't. 

Very early in the morning I do attend to the flowers. A little bit. Around the edges. There are still a few clumps of lilies blooming their heads off, but most have retired for the year and by the time I come back, we will be well past any grand lily display. So do enjoy these few photos -- you wont see them again until next year, if we are here next year rather than in some memory care or rehabilitative unit. You never know with people in their seventies.

 

 

 

(a color to remember in the bleak days of winter)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I eat breakfast with Ed and Dance. Ed tells me that the cat misses me when I go away. She looks for me and mopes. I'm not sure you could tell if a cat is moping, but I do know that Dance likes to have her two people in place. She is happiest when we are both on the couch. 

 

 

 

And then I pack. And water plants. And clean the house for Ed (and for myself: I'll come home to a much better environment if I leave it in a decent state). By 4:30, I am at the airport. Always hard to say goodbye. Always. And yet, here I go.

But go where? The focal point of this two weeker is Warsaw, Poland. Time to see family and friends there. But I'm spending a few days before adjusting to Europe before I plunge into the frenzy of trying to fit too much into my days in Poland. And after my visit there, I am taking another few days in Europe unwinding before I return to farmette life and the new school year for the kids. I've changed my mind where I should acclimate and then unwind many many times. It has to feel right or it's not worth the time or money. I think I hit it right. We will see.

Until tomorrow then. If all goes well, you'll hear from me next from Norway.

with so much love... 

good, better, best

Those words -- good, better, best -- come straight out of an autograph book I had when I was twelve. Do you remember those books? Mine came with a zipper and it had blank pages for your friends to scribble in. Messages filled the book: sweet ones from girls, braggy ones from boys, sometimes funny ones from either. Clichés, all of them, but it was great fun and real keepsake for kids like me who were soon to leave their friends forever and return to the home country. One girl wrote -- good, better, best, never let it rest, until your good is better and your better best. Silly as it was, I have, nonetheless thought about it, on and off over the decades -- whether you should always aim for best, or maybe "better" is good enough, and indeed, isn't "good" also of value? 

This morning I thought about it again as the air quality had improved, coming down from "unhealthy for all groups" to "moderately ok" if you're a cup half full person, or "moderately lousy" if you're on the half empty side of things.

Me, I thought it was a tremendous morning! The haze had dissipated, the cloudless sky actually looked blue. The mosquitoes seemed to be on the decline, and I snipped just enough lilies to keep the garden looking "good enough."  

 

(the hens are thrilled that I'm in the thick of the corn freezing project)

And, Ed agreed to a breakfast on the porch. (He's on the "moderately lousy" platform, so he avoids doing a lot of outdoor stuff even in these moderate air quality conditions.) 

(the pink Mandevilla plant on the porch is a total success story: I over-wintered it indoors and it looked pretty sad by April and now it is one exuberant member of our porch plant community.)

 

Too, he asked for me to trim his beard! I love doing this because I think his face is beautiful and the beard pulls his mouth down so that he looks like he is scowling even when he is feeling upbeat. (Granted, Ed rarely feels upbeat. Mostly he just is. In the photo, he's handing me some chocolate covered peanuts.)

 

 

I was anxious to move some today. And I mean real movement, outside. Not flower snipping and not pedaling a stationary bike indoors. Move with the wind! I had shucked and filled freezer bags with corn kernels from two dozen ears of corn yesterday and I told Ed I was willing to work on another dozen today if he would bike with me to Stoneman's to get more corn. He agreed. 

Delightful! The farm stand is rarely busy on a weekday morning and so I chatted to the two in charge about their big family trip this June (a photo hangs in the shed with all of them in it -- grandparents, parents, grandkids). A Mediterranean cruise to celebrate grandma's 70th. She said -- best to go now, while everyone is willing and able. I agree with her on the "able" part, but I'm pretty sure that if you gift your family a trip, they will come, quite willingly! Still, I have said this before -- that family has a lot of love going around. Three young families and nine grandkids and they always appear to be in harmony, working together and at least once a year vacationing together. It makes me smile just to see them in action around the corn stand.

 

And now I should pack, because tomorrow, I'm leaving on my own trip. But I put off the job of filling my suitcase, concentrating instead on making granola for the weeks I'm away, and tending to the corn. Why the packing postponement?  Well,  because I care what goes in it.

I love taking great care with everything when I travel, and that includes how I appear in public. There are earrings in my ears. I'm never sloppy. I take my favorite bottle of perfume along. And I do this for total strangers! (This trip, I will be encountering people I know, but only for a handful of days. I will be otherwise alone.) How does this make any sense? For the people closest to me -- Ed, the kids and grandkids, my best friends here -- I wear shorts and tshirts in the summer and sweatpants and sweatshirts in the winter. When I'm dead and gone, my grandkids will never say about me -- gaga took such great care with her appearance! She always presented herself so beautifully! At home, clean clothes in pretty colors is good enough. Sometimes I go with "better" -- if there is a special celebration, for example. But when I travel, I aim for "best." And it feels special to actually care about appearance, unwrinkled clothes, a tidy room and bathroom -- with everything laid out neatly -- mmmm! Not for me grubby vacations! I want every aspect of it to shine!

This means that packing is tough. Choosing the right clothes is tough. Ironing pants (yes, I do this!) is tough. And so I postpone it all. 

 

By the evening, the air quality had deteriorated and nothing had been packed, but I did prepare a supper of shrimp and corn for tonight, with leftovers for Ed to have later in the week. And I printed out boarding passes, and ironed a bunch of pants. And when I say it was a good day, I do mean that it is as good as I would want it to be. At least here, at the farmette. What's going on elsewhere in the world is too heartbreaking and worrisome. Not even close to good. 

with love... 

 

running away

We wake up to even worse air quality. Unhealthy for all. Ed mutters -- this has been a very disappointing summer. And it may continue like this. Each year.

Well that would be a bummer! A world of fewer restrictions on pollution, dryer air, forest fires, more smoke. Are you depressed yet? 

His next comment is by now familiar to me: we should downsize and move.  I remind him that there are no safe places on this planet anymore, but he disagrees. There are safer, cleaner places and with stronger commitments to democracy. 

I have a history of running away from uncomfortable situations. I left Poland, my graduate studies (twice!), my parents, my marriage. Lately I've been more inclined to stay put. I stayed with my law teaching career for 25 years. I stayed in Wisconsin (46 years). I stayed close to my kids (always and forever). I stayed with Ed (20 years). It's been grand. Am I going to have to make some choices now? Probably not. A move for us would be quite the undertaking and Ed never does anything without investigating all options thoroughly. We haven't enough days left in our lives to investigate all options thoroughly. So I nod my head, understanding the sentiment, and feeling great empathy for my guy who suffers with his breathing in this smokey air.

And that's not the only upsetting news: the sixth chicken is still missing. I see this morning that the sleepy girl of yesterday is back and bouncy, but the one who has been mopey, or off kilter, or aging before our eyes is gone. Did she go off to die somewhere? Was she snatched? Will we ever find out? At least it takes away the issue of testing a dead chicken for a virus (too, she's been drooping and dragging for so long that we know it not to be the avian flu, which comes quickly and knocks them down equally fast). And so now we have five hens. Still happy. Still healthy.

My morning chores are adjusted for the month and for the weather. I snip lilies but not all of them. Enough to create a pretty landscape with what's left. (It has that late summer look...)

And I drive over to Madison Sourdough for a sweet breakfast. Do you see the haze??

... At home, with Ed.

 

 

 

Dance chooses to sleep this one out.

 

In the late morning I have the two big kids, on a break from their Shakespeare program. 

Lunch, play, read. It's wonderful to see them, still in their summer mode -- relaxed, with traces of sunshine in their hair and on their arms.

On our way back home, I stop with them at Stoneman's. I want to do my corn purchasing today so that I can shuck and freeze the kernels now, while the corn is at its best.

 

Honestly, I loved this day! Yes, garden work has become more of a chore. Yes, we stay mostly indoors. But it's so comfortable here! Our old farmhouse is our little piece of patched up heaven. We are still mostly healthy. My family is nearby. I could not be more content.

with love...