Honoring the past

Today, I've honored my ancestors.

I ventured into the realm of the Norwegian elk. I faced puddles and moss, elk droppings and hungry mosquitos. I warded off evil in the form of spiderwebs and dry twigs, strategically placed in eye-height. And I lived to tell the tale. All of this, to pick some mushrooms.

Let's go back a few hundred, oh hell, let's make it 1200 years. Scandinavia is ruled by long haired men with cabin fever. The winters are long, hard and boring. The summers are short and rainy. All work and no play makes Eirikr a dull boy. So his wife begs him to take his friends fishing or something. She packs his lunch (this is a Norwegian tradition dating back to the stone age), and kicks him out. He rows his boat aimlessly in the North Sea, until lunchtime. Then, he wolfs down everything in his lunchbox, including the little, red toadstool one of the kids accidentally put in there.

This is where the fun starts. Fly Agaric, or Amanita Muscaria, has hallucinogenic properties. O hai, said Eirikr, this is different!

And so the tale of the berserks begun. Let's not get into detail about the horrendous things the Vikings did while under the influence. All I know, is that they went straight to the forest for more when they got home. My point is simply that I, as my foremothers before me, went to the forest to find mushrooms for my long haired man.

Behold my treasure:

The maggots beat me to it. This was all I got after two hours of wading knee deep in elk droppings. At some point, I eyed an especially shiny Fly Agaric and wondered if it would make me burn and pillage the kindergarten when I went to pick up the kids. I thought better of it, and decided it was time to honor my mother as well as my great-great-great... oh, you get the gist. So I went shopping for mushrooms in stead. Whipped up a fabulously simple pasta dish with chanterelles and Albatrellus Ovinus (no english name as far as I can google, but in Norwegian it's called Fåresopp), some garlic, thyme, butter and parmesan.

The long haired man was happy. Then he went off to play with his friends. I will not be surprised if he loots and plunders the place. To honor his ancestors, I mean.

Head in the sand

I'm back to work after my summer vacation, and Oslo feels... well, pretty much the same. People talk more. Many are affected. But generally I would say Oslo hasn't changed a lot.

I've always kept my distance to what happens in the world. Wars are always fought, children are always starving somewhere in Africa, there are conflicts in the Middle East. Nothing has changed there, then. I cannot take it all in without going crazy, so I stick my head in the sand. I suspect most people do. 'Accept what you can't change' and so on.

But the saying doesn't end there. It also says 'change what you can't accept.'

Riots in London (Norwegian newspaper Aftenposten)

It's insane. I cannot fathom that in the western world, we feel the need to riot, burn, vandalize and kill to change things. At the same time, I do feel some kind of desperate need to shake people into sense:

New finance crisis on the steps? (Norwegian newspaper Aftenposten)

I say I stick my own head in the sand, because I can't change the world anyway. Well, American politicians can't say the same thing. They CAN change the world - and by sticking their heads in the sand, they STILL change the world, but not in a good way, as they have the means to do.

I believe in democracy, but sometimes I think the leader must make the decisions, even if they are unpopular.

Then again, I wouldn't want a guy like Bush (or Sarah Palin) to make an unpopular decision, so democracy is back on.

There will be blood (Norwegian newspaper Dagbladet)

Nobody wants to have known the Norwegian terrorist. Yet they spread his lore like a gospel. Multiculturalism has failed, The Others are taking over. Who The Others are, depends on who you talk to. If you ask me, The Others are extremists of all shapes and sizes. Extreme right, extreme left, extreme christians, extreme muslims, extreme atheists, extreme israelites and extreme palestinians. Everybody has an enemy. Moderates, for the most part. Those of us who think nobody has the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God, Allah, Jahve, myself and Gaia. Those of us who think that if we could just sit down and TALK, we could probably come up with a solution where we could all coexist. That we don't ALL have to be supreme rulers of the universe. And if something has to be done, it's better to do it now and limit the damage, than drag it out and blame The Others when it goes to hell, and run off with the glory of being the 'savior' afterwards.

Can I change the world? Nah.

Should I accept it then? Nah.

Then what? Rant about it? Shake some people? Riot? Run for president? Nah.

I'll stick my head back in the sand.

My little country

Two days ago, July 22. 2011 my world changed.

I live in the safest, most peace-loving country in the world. We do not seek attention or put ourselves in harm's way. We participate when we are called upon by our allies, but we contribute mainly in diplomatic solutions and peace keeping missions. We thought ourselves safe.

But we were not safe.

For nine years, one of our own planned and schemed to hurt us at our core. Our democracy, which the entire western world believes in, was not good enough for this man. Why? Because he was not heard? Because nobody agreed with him? Because the newspapers wouldn't print his views? Extremist internet forums were evidently not enough. He had to get his message across. So he planned. And he schemed. He studied and he read, and in his own words made himself a small fortune on a successful business just to finance his plan.

He comes across as well articulated, although extremely lofty. He has read so much, I cannot even fathom how he did it. All the while he had to keep himself fit and pure (sex before marriage was forbidden, he was clear on that in his manifesto), taking care of his image and looks as part of the "marketing" he had in mind. This involving youtube videos, carefully constructed Facebook and twitter accounts, including professionally taken photos, after getting a tan, a haircut and "light make-up". All to look his best. He knew people would find him. He knew the power of social media. He didn't get some random picture of himself on tv. He chose the picture himself. He planned to get caught, although he figured he would probably get shot first. Now we see the next step he's planned - he wants to tell the world why he did this in a lengthy statement in an open courtroom at tomorrow's hearing. I hope he doesn't get his wish.

Our hunger for information, to understand how, why, above all, why, these hideous, terrible, cowardly acts were carried out, is insatiable. He knows this. He finally has his audience. And we're captured. We're hanging on every word of his 1,500 p manifesto. It makes me more than a little bit sick.

Even the world's initial reaction served his purpose: "Muslims! Terror! Retaliation from the al Quaida!" He spread hate and fear of foreign culture right away, as planned. As said before, he planned on getting caught, on being demonized, as he is. This man is not insane. He is cold, calculated, has a sharp intellect and seems balanced and relaxed through hours and hours of interrogation. He merely tells his story, to a captivated audience. We cannot look away.

If his reasoning seems logical to you, please remember that this reasoning killed close to 100 people (numbers yet uncertain), most of them teenagers and mere children. Innocents. This was the worst and most deadly attack by one man ever recorded. So he got another wish. He was definitely heard. He goes down in history, even.

I cannot ask of you not to listen. I cannot ask of you not to hear what he wants to say. The world needs to record this, hateful and twisted as it is. We need to remember, so as to not let history repeat itself. And we need to remember what a young girl at Utøya said:

"If one man can create so much hate, imagine how much love we can create together."

This man will not break us. He will not kill our spirits. We will not bow to terrorists, foreign or domestic. The answer to terrorism is more democracy, more openness.

I am so proud to be Norwegian. We are a formidable people, who can stand strong and calm throughout this. Our leaders are strong and clear headed. We will mourn our dead children, and we will see justice served. We will be stronger because of this, and we will stand together, regardless of religion, ethnicity, gender and age.

WE ARE NORWAY, AND WE WILL NOT BE BROKEN!

Into The West

Lay down
Your sweet and weary head
Night is falling
You've come to journey's end
Sleep now
And dream of the ones who came before
They are calling
From across the distant shore

Why do you weep?
What are these tears upon your face?
Soon you will see
All of your fears will pass away
Safe in my arms
You're only sleeping

[Chorus]
What can you see
On the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea
A pale moon rises
The ships have come to carry you home

And all will turn
To silver glass
A light on the water
All souls pass

Hope fades
Into the world of night
Through shadows falling
Out of memory and time
Don't say: «We have come now to the end»
White shores are calling
You and I will meet again

And you'll be here in my arms
Just sleeping

[Chorus]

And all will turn
To silver glass
A light on the water
Grey ships pass
Into the West

Alene hjemme

Gubben dro på bandøvelse/guttekveld, så etter at ungene var i seng, var det fram med Bergene Nøtt, Frydenlund Fatøl og Atter En Konge. Herregud. Jeg griner hver gang.

På den annen side hadde jeg ikke blitt lei meg av å havne midt mellom Legolas (alltid plettfri) og Aragorn (best møkkete)... Nå har jeg jo en mann som svinger mellom disse to kategoriene på daglig basis, så jeg har det vel bra som
jeg har det :)

Jeg har forøvrig for få kjoler, og for få anledninger til å bruke dem. Men i går fikk jeg verdens herligste spørsmål fra Storm: "Mamma, tan itte du ta på dej den pjittete sjolen din, da ej du så fin." Ååååå, han kan smelte et mammahjerte han! Tok den på i dag, og fjeset hans lyste opp: "Å mamma, det ej den fine sjolen! Du tot på den i dad!"

Av og til er han bare til å spise opp :)

Årets første jordbær

Vi nordmenn elsker norske jordbær, som er søtere og friskere og har så mye mer smak enn de utenlandske "vannbæra". Så var det noen som mente at bær ikke vet hvilken side av grensa de vokser på, og at norske bær ikke smaker noe annerledes... Vel, de bryr seg nok ikke stort om hvilket land de gror i, men breddegraden og været har mye å si! Det at vi har så lange dager og korte netter, kombinert med et forholdsvis greit klima her i søndre halvdel av Norge, gjør at jordbæra kan lage mye mer sukker enn mer sydlandske artsfrender. De er også plukket seinere, fordi de ikke skal reise så langt, og normalt sett selges og spises innen bare noen få dager. Utenlandske bær plukkes tidligere, altså før de har fått utvikle sødmen sin, for at de skal være fastere i fisken og tåle transport og lagring bedre. Derfor smaker de mindre. Ikke så vanskelig, egentlig :)

Men de aller, aller beste jordbæra er dem man plukker i egen hage, solvarme og saftige, og deler med noen man er glad i! Bildet over er mine første jordbær fra i år.

Fredagspils på Ringnes

Barnefriiii :)

Bestemor og bestefar hentet ungene i barnehagen i går, og tok dem med til Fall for en uke - har du hørt noe så fantastisk! Med fredagspils på Ringnes og husbandet The Husband på programmet, måtte det jo bli en bra kveld. Min kjære nestleder dumpet av uforståelige grunner husband og billig øl til fordel for sitteplass på Foo Fighters og doven, lunken øl i plastglass. Jeg var hvert fall fornøyd med mitt valg, og sier som Jenny Skavlan i dagens avis: Det var ganske sannsynlig at jeg fikk være med han ene i bandet hjem :)

Fikk forøvrig bekreftet at trøndere jevnlig gjør bruk av sjekkereplikken "Har du noe trønder i dæ? Nei? Vil du ha det?" uten at det medfører noe som helst annet enn latterbrøl.

Man får det man fortjener... eller?

Denne uka begynte så bra, med en fridag og strålende sol. Tirsdagen var sinna-og-sur-kunde-dagen. Det var ikke måte på så vanskelig alt skulle være. Jeg har hørt at man får de kundene man fortjener, så jeg lurer på hva galt jeg har gjort... og stakkars kveldsvakta måtte håndtere en av tidenes mest grinete og sinna karer som har satt sine ben i en blomsterbutikk.

Folkens, skal du handle på kreditt, så må du jo for guds skyld ha med deg legitimasjon! Og skal du sende blomster, så ja, du må faktisk betale for både blomstene og frakten... Jeg kan også fortelle at hvis det står spesifisert på kvitteringen hva beløpet gjelder, så er det spesifisert:

"Det må stå at det er blomster!"

"Ja, det står det, og så står summen."

"Nei!"

"Kan du ikke lese det som står, for jeg kan jo ikke se den akkurat nå." (kunden ringte)

"Ja, det står blomster da, men det må stå blomster!"

"Jeg vet ikke helt hva jeg kan gjøre for deg..."

Har jeg nevnt at jeg vurderer å sette meg på skolebenken til neste år og bli lærer? Dager som i går (og delvis i dag, selv om jeg faktisk har fri må jeg hjelpe til å håndtere den ene kunden - føljetong...) gjør at jeg får mer lyst. Bare gjøre noe annet enn å måtte smile til folk man har mest lyst til å hive på huet og ræva ut, og be om unnskyldning til medarbeiderne sine for at de må holde ut med andre folks oppsparte dritt.

HELDIGVIS, de aller, aller fleste kundene mine (våre) er blide, hyggelige og strålende fornøyd med servicen - for det er vi faktisk veldig gode på! Men du vet hvordan det er, for hver negativ trenger man 100 positive. Så, om et par-tre uker er det glemt :)

En oppfordring til alle der ute: Har du en dårlig dag, så er det virkelig ikke de som står i kassa i en hvilken som helst butikk sin skyld. Bli hjemme og handle på nett. Og NEI - det er ikke greit å snakke til butikkmennesker på noen annen måte enn du snakker med andre folk. Vi er ikke mindre verdt enn deg bare fordi vi tilbyr en vare. Oppfør deg som folk!

Lenge mellom hver post...?

Tja, kanskje litt. Men det er ikke alltid man føler for å blogge heller :)

I dag har jeg hatt en (velfortjent?) fridag, og brukt den til å utsette det jeg hadde bestemt meg for å gjøre, nemlig komme meg på sykkelen og prøve å komme litt i form igjen. Det var tungt... Men det gikk greiere enn første gangen i fjor, faktisk. Da er det bare å følge opp, da!

I morgen er det jobb igjen (bare 4,5 uker til ferie!), og snaaart feriepenger :) har lovet å kjøpe epletre sammen med trolla, det blir vel på søndag tenker jeg. Hvis ikke det kommer en ny syndflod, selvsagt... Eller kanskje jeg burde skaffe meg regntøy, så det ikke spiller noen rolle?