I had an image this week that perfectly describes what it feels like to apply for tourism jobs in Norway, being that it is one of the hardest countries in the world for an American to obtain a work visa and, well, I have no work experience in the industry! In this image I was blindfolded and drunk, staggering down the middle of the road while punching the air. Simply put, I look ridiculous and am accomplishing nothing.
Of course, this is not completely true. I am necessarily working through the process. Yet the actions I am taking often don’t carry with them a sense of sanity.
Feeling in need of laughter instead, I thought it would be fun to embrace the comedic side of my time in Norway. So, put on your 15-year-old self, and let’s talk about the Norwegian words that make me laugh.
Fart= “speed” in Norway. Fart signs are everywhere!
What else can I say? 🤣
And for the crudest of all, the Norwegian word bønner.
At language practice last Wednesday, my good friend Joseline (a Canadian) and I had a hard time keeping our composure as our Norwegian volunteer explained all the meanings of bønner. The Chinese lady and the Latvian man had no idea why we kept chuckling and of course, we could not explain why!
Bønner is a noun meaning “beans”.
Bønner is also a verb meaning “to pray”.
Bønder is a noun meaning “farmers” but the “d” is silent so it is pronounced exactly the same.
I am so grateful for these moments that take the edge of seriousness off of everything, in an instant!
Lessons from: Just Laugh!
- It is perfectly safe to fill up water bottles where any water flows around Bergen. This makes for a light and refreshing hiking experience!
- Laughter and exercise continuously prove to be my cure for negative mental states. At least temporarily, but sometimes temporary is enough.
Something interesting: A loophole?
Last week, I met an Argentinian, from Buenos Aires, who volunteers at the Red Cross language practice. Every time I meet a foreigner who comes from a country that has the same visa requirements that I do, I always ask them how they did it. He told me the most interesting story.
He too visited Norway, absolutely loved it, and decided to find a way to move here. Yet, in the most creative fashion. He got to work on his family history and found that he had a great-great-great(?) grandfather who lived in Italy in 1890! Miraculously, he was able to locate the necessary legal documents and obtain an Italian passport. And just like that, he was a citizen of the EU, for whom visas are not required to live or work in Norway.
Of course, that got me thinking!
This guy was impressive for another reason. He speaks Spanish, English, Russian, Italian, French, German, and Norwegian. He is probably in his mid-30s.
A look behind the curtain.
At this same language meet-up, I was hit over the head once again at how fortunate I am. And how timely after a week of doors being slammed into my face. Perspective is such a fantastic gift.
I sat at the table with our impressive Argentinian Norwegian teacher to my left, Serhii (who is Ukrainian) to my right, two women from Iran at the end of the table, and a Ukrainian woman across from me. We played a game. One of the Iranian women landed on the square that invited her to ask a question (in Norwegain) to someone in the group. The Iranian woman picked the American woman. She asked me (in Norwegian), “Why did you come to Norway?”. This question and “Why don’t you want to live in the United States?” are questions that I have been asked by many political and wartime refugees, and every time I momentarily freeze as the dynamic of the situation kicks me in the stomach. But what can I do but be honest? I told her that I had come to Norway because I was curious about what it was like to live here. Serhii, of course, knows my story well, but the other three looked at me with blank expressions, and then we moved on.
Though I am well aware that I am very fortunate even by American standards, I still represent what many people in the world think of as what it is like to be American- wealthy and with endless opportunities. How can I argue? As I sat in the Red Cross language meet-up filled mainly with refugees, the privileged situation that I was in was absurdly obvious.
I will say it again, perspective is a wonderful gift!
She Simply Wanders 
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