Goodbye Deutschland

By chantelle | July 18, 2008

We made it through the leaving Mainz. The moments of hey, we never ate at that new restaurant, and how weird, I will never buy this brand of diapers again, and she is so funny, I wish I had gotten to know her better. Through the cleaning, and the throwing out, and the paperwork…well, most of the paperwork. Thank goodness for internet and fax.
On Tuesday our moving became official for the German authorities through the process of Abmeldung, deregistering with the city. We were called over to the desk of middle age blonde woman incased a slinky black dress. Here eyes were lined thickly with turquoise blue and almost anything that could be was decorated with something shiny or silver. She looked less like a bureaucrat and more like, shall we say, someone involved in a more nighttime profession. When she opened my passport to the photo page, here eyes immediately went to the opposite page. The one that displays an excerpt from the Declaration of Independence superimposed on top of an American flag which flows behind a wheat bearing eagle. “This is fantastic,” she said, “Wow.” She waved the passport in the air to get the attention of the woman in the neighboring desk. “Have you ever seen this?” Our bureaucrat cackled and shook her head in disbelief.
I kinda wish she were my crazy aunt.
Yesterday, after a late night and an early morning of cleaning out our apartment, we headed to the train station where we were, to our surprise, greeted by an armada of strollers. Almost our entire playgroup had come to see us off. After a ½ hour wait at the train station, due to our inability to pay attention and face the correct direction, three of the five moms accompanied us all the way to the airport. Our extra three kilos of luggage were waved through, and after a quick toast with the bottle of champagne that one of our friends had brought along for the occasion, we stepped up to the passport control. “Do you live in Germany?” The answer was now no.
Where do we live?
For the moment we are in limbo. And what place is better for that than England - culturally, politically and geographically somewhere in between Europe and the US. (Come on, Brits, you know it’s true.) Here we will stay until after my conference at the end of next week, before we move on to our new hometown via my parent’s house, which is conveniently located in the middle of the country and close to a major airport.
In the meantime, since I may be incommunicado for a lot of the next week. I leave you with some pictures from our last days in Mainz.

Perrin turned the chaos of moving into a toddler obstacle course.

Unconventional dining situation.

Perrin waiting for our guests to arrive to the farewell party.

Perrin and his buddy Thorben hanging out at the “juice bar.”

Julia, Antje, and Thorben chilling on the dinosaur. As one does.

Paul, possibly heading for the cake.

Sophia, thirsty but not willing to let go of neither ball nor cookie

A view of the whole party.

Perrin about to disappear into the belly of the dinosaur.

The party was winding down, but Perrin was still running strong.

Perrin and Thorben chasing each other around the empty apartment.

My friend Antje was kind enough to accompany me to the playground to escape our chaos. And she brought bubbles. She was quickly very popular with the preschool crowd.

Running amok a final time in Germany (for now).

Poor baby forced to eat on the floor.

The shirt read “Keine Panik,” “Don’t Panic” - a message for us in the middle of our move and a reassurance to our fellow flight passengers.

Topics: Germany and the Germans, Moving, Travels | 2 Comments »

This Migrating Stuff Is For the Birds

By chantelle | July 12, 2008

I will not be posting anything of great substance this week, due to moving chaos, but here is a brief peek at the dominant thoughts circling through my head:

Grumble grrrrr @#$% grumble omigod did perrin just say car? ouch yuck grumble

More details?

This is my kitchen for the next few days.

Topics: Moving | 4 Comments »

One of Those Days

By chantelle | July 8, 2008

I am pretty sure that Perrin has tried on every single unowned pair of size 22 children’s sandals in Mainz. I thought it was all clever of me to buy sandals at the end of the season, when everything is up for sale, as the German shops empty their shelves for the approaching fall, and the sales ladies shake their heads at me, to which I retort, ah, but we are moving to the desert. I was not very clever. They are all gone. Or else they are too narrow (damn my wide foot genes). Except this one particular model that has a a bunch of bunnies in clothing playing in grass along the side. For some inexplicable reason every store seemed to have a pair of those still in stock.

Perrin was understandably exhausted by the time we made our way home. I started taking him out of the stroller to try to keep him awake until lunch. He would walk 5 or 6 steps with me, and then suddenly dart back the other direction. He ended up back in the stroller fairly quickly.

At home, while I heated up Perrin’s lunch, I started to smell something much less appetizing. Onto the changing table. A pooptastrophe was in the makes. Perrin has started trying to reach down when you change his diaper…I think you can see where this is headed. Where it ended was the bathtub, with Perrin clinging onto the edge trying to decide if he was giggling or complaining as I hosed him off with the shower head.

He didn’t really like his lunch. He didn’t really want a nap. After 1 1/2 hours of alternating between trying to get him to sleep and entertaining his grumpy tired self, I finally decided to take him to the grocery store and at least get something done. “Awe. Look at his red eyes,” commented the cashier. “Yeah, he didn’t want to sleep.” “Oh, little ones have to sleep. They need rest and so do mommies.” From her mouth to Perrin’s ears!

He finally went down around 2:15 leaving me time to back. You see, as I am sure I have mentioned previously, in Germany the kitchen doesn’t typically come with the apartment. When you rent, you have to bring your own counters, cabinets, sink, stove, and fridge along with you, which in our case means you also have to get rid of them when you decide to move to a country with more sensible rental traditions (sorry, Germans, my cultural understanding is wide but begrenzt). Ours is being picked up on Friday, which means that the cookies I wanted to make for our goodbye party on Sunday needed to get done beforehand. Thus, I found myself filling Perrin’s nap by preparing cookie batter armed with only a lonely leftover 1/3 cup as a measuring device, forcing me to convert every amount in the recipe into multiples of 1/3 cup. (But don’t you worry! The cookies are delicious. I had to quality test of course.)

In the meantime, our furniture has started migrating around our house in preparation for painting. It turns out that we actually have to repaint the walls before we move out, because the contract requires us to leave it in its “original condition”. Since we also still have to live here, that means we will do one room a day for the rest of the week, and sequester ourselves into the other rooms while the paint dries and the fumes air out.

8 days and counting until we leave Germany, folks, and they are filling up fast!

Topics: Babies are funny, Babies are gross, Germany and the Germans, Moving | 4 Comments »

Things We (Well, Mostly Perrin) Have Been Doing That Have Nothing to Do With Moving

By chantelle | July 4, 2008

Hitting his head

This happens on a daily basis, but last week he took a particularly good knock on noggin when he lost his balance and face planted onto a jungle gym bar. The wood hit right between the eyes. He ended up with a fairly good lump and two partially black eyes. Unfortunately, due to lighting issues, the photos don’t do it justice.

If I sound unsensitive about his injury it is because Perrin takes getting hurt in such a stride. Within a couple minutes he was back to running around and playing like nothing had ever happened. Magical toddler healing powers.

Swimming

This past Wednesday we went with two friends and their daughter to the real swimming pool, not just the little kiddie pool in the park. Perrin loved the children’s pool (as did we because it was hovering around 90 degrees that day). Well, more specifically, Perrin actually loved the little bucket and watering can that he borrowed from his buddy who was too busy running around and watching the other kids for water pouring activities.

It isn’t everyone who can really appreciate a good pour as much as Perrin. He was giggling and cheering the whole time.

Learning to mop

Because really, if you are going to sweep the floors as much as Perrin does, you might as well also know how to mop.

Look at that shine!

Chilling

Writing his magnum opus

Perrin’s dissertation on the effects of prolonged internet exposure on the development of toddlers under the age of two.

Topics: photos | 2 Comments »

Getting Ready to Reassimilate

By chantelle | July 2, 2008

Cover story: Who are the Americans?

Perrin, the US citizen, reading to Ben, the resident alien, from Welcome to the United States: A Guide for New Immigrants

Plus, a couple more reasons why Perrin likes moving.

Topics: Babies are funny, Germany and the Germans, Moving | 6 Comments »

On Perrin’s Bilingualism

By chantelle | June 30, 2008

A conversation had at the playground.

Perrin: Goodagooda doo

Little Girl: What’s that mean?

Me: I don’t know either. He doesn’t really talk yet.

Little Girl: He doesn’t really talk yet?

Me: No, but for what it’s worth, he doesn’t talk in two languages.

Topics: Babies are funny, Language, Motherhood | 1 Comment »

Perrin’s First Dip in the Local Paddle Pool

By chantelle | June 27, 2008

Ready to go…

Almost.

Perrin enjoyed the long slopes of concrete more than the water because he could run back and forth and up and down.

The water jets were fun too.

This was right before I watched a baby pick up his newly removed, pee-soaked diaper and dip it into the water.

Ah, the paddle pool.

Topics: photos | 5 Comments »

Cross Your Fingers For Us Internets

By chantelle | June 17, 2008

The visa interview is tomorrow.

And Perrin has discovered climbing.

Topics: Babies are funny, Moving, photos | 4 Comments »

Our Summer Vacation Part 2: The English Lake District

By chantelle | June 12, 2008

So here’s the thing. You may have noticed that we took a lot of photos in Norway. And that was just in the edited, trimmed down blog version. When we first got to England we were struck with a case of the camera lazies. I have very few pictures from the first few days after we arrived which we spent primarily with Ben’s aunt and uncle in village just outside of Cambridge. We also spent one evening in London splashing around puddles, searching for nonexistent footwear, and later eating curry with our buddies Dayton and Tessa and from there popped over to Farnham for a few hours to see Ben’s grandma and uncle.

But you are going to have to take my word for all of this because we didn’t take any pictures.

Napping on the train to Farnham.

For the second year in a row, Ben and I managed to be in the Cambridge area on our wedding anniversary, so we decided it was about time to revisit the pub where we tied the knot. We celebrated our nuptials with a romantic beer - just us…and Perrin…and Ben’s parents since we didn’t have access to a car. It was really nice actually.

Here’s to two happy years together.

That’s right, folks, she said two years. Go ahead. Do the math. It checks out. Barely.

On the weekend, we headed off to the Lake District. The actual motivation behind this visit to the UK was that Ben’s parents had decided to book a cabin in Cumbria, which would be inhabited by them, us, Ben’s sister Josie and her boyfriend Monkey (not his birth name), Judith and Ken (the Cambridgeshire aunt and uncle) and Ed and Marge (a Sheffield aunt and uncle) at various times for differing durations.

For those of you who - like me until a couple weeks ago - are unacquainted with the English Lake District, this is an exemplary landscape.

The Lake District, as Ben’s mom commented, could have just as easily been called the Hill District. Or the Sheep District for that matter. It could also have been called the Pretty District but that is just a bit corny and self-inflated.

The cabin where we would stay was one in a row of old, slate cottages that used to be inhabited by workers from the quarries that spot the land in this area.

Ours was the one with the car parked in front.

The drive went smoothly, everyone arrived in due time, the sun was shining, beers were about to be poured and all signs were pointing to a week of relaxation.

Are you anticipating the “and then…”?

The thing about quaint, little, old cottages is that they often have steep, narrow, wobbly stairs. Within just a couple hours of arriving, Ben’s aunt Judith managed to misstep and injure her ankle. Withe the help of a National Health Service number cleverly planted on the pinup board in the kitchen, we managed to locate the nearest hospital and get her to it. Unfortunatelty, the diagnosis was not good. A dislocation and a break. Instead of spending four days with us in the cabin, Judith was made to spend four days in the hospital and a couple hours in surgery.

We have a photo of Judith smiling as she waited patiently on the stairs, which Ben snapped while people decided what to do with her (but which I won’t post here), which pretty much sums up how well she took this turn of events.

And that was before they gave her morphine.

In the rush to the hospital, Ken managed to grab our camera instead of theirs - this is easy to do since we all seem to own the same damn camera - so we have a bit of a photo gap for the first day or so.

Of course, we didn’t do much except feel sorry for Judith (who sometimes reads this blog - Hi, Judith!).

Come to think of it. What did we do the rest of the week?

Well, you know how vacations are. You sit around a lot. Eat a lot of good food. Go on long walks. See some nature. Let other people entertain your child.

Stuff like that.

Stuff like this…

Exploring the paths around our cottage.

Climbing mountains - Perrin actually did amazingly well on the rocky, tree-rooty paths.

But sometimes he needed an extra hand.

Or even a couple shoulders.

Or a ride in the backpack.

See. Lots of hills.

Lots of pretty.

I swear there were lakes too, but we saw a lot less of those.

Hanging out at a nearby cafe. I swear it was more fun than they make it look.

Perrin started really getting into using the spoon while we were there. He mostly made his mouth sometimes.

During a rest, Perrin disappeared down to the stream with his daddy and Gruff..

And came back with a face full of mud.

Random river house made of slate. (Everything here is made of slate.)

A stone henge. (Just not the stone henge)

Hanging out at the cottage.

Having a picnic.

Perrin ran around trying to steal everyone else’s food.

Then we climbed a big hill…

I stood at the top taking people’s pictures like one of those guys on amusement park rides.

Lest I misrepresent myself, I must disclose that I didn’t actually beat everyone to the top. I just shuffled a few steps ahead to take the pictures and then everyone else climbed up the hill with ease while I scrambled behind with all of the grace of someone who grew up in a plains state.

The view was nice.

Then Perrin decided it was time for some downhill, so Ben and I obliged while the others carried on further upwards.

And waited near the bottom.

(Even further down at the bottom there was a tasty tasty scone with cream and jam and a mug of coffee.)

I think that about sums up the Lake District.

Ben and I didn’t fly out of England until Saturday evening, so we decided to make a little detour in Blackburn, where Ben lived until they immigrated to New Zealand when he was nine years old.

We even played in a park where Ben and his sisters had played as children.

It was not without it’s risks. [The sign on the pond reads: Danger Deep Mud Keep Out.]

They had installed some shiny new slides since the early 80s.

During the flight we experienced no turbulence and minimal crying. Besides, after so long flying budget airlines, the crappy half a cheese sandwich and granola bar provided by Lufthansa seemed like the height of luxury. They would have wowed me with a free ginger ale.

Perrin was excited to be home at first. (He was a bit of a grump for the rest of the week, possibly as a result of being a bit sick and coming down off of high doses of constant adult attention.)

Enough of this vacation stuff. The dirt of the floors here isn’t going to move aimlessly around by itself.

Topics: Travels, photos | 3 Comments »

Our Summer Vacation Part 1: Norway

By chantelle | June 10, 2008

Our journey began with us lugging all of our baggage, which in this case included Perrin, to the Mainz train station. Apparently he found the walk a little less than stimulating.

And then we were off to Frankfurt Hahn Airport, which is more Hahn than Frankfurt, to catch our Ryanair flight to Oslo.

A few days before we left, I had organized train tickets from the Oslo Torp Airport, which is more Torp than Oslo, to the center of Oslo where we were to meet our friend Nina. The internet receipt instructed me to simply enter the included code into a machine at the station and collect the tickets. Simple enough, right. It also informed me to catch a free shuttle bus from the airport terminal to the Torp train station. After some fruitless wandering and a visit to the information desk we found the said bus and were on our way to collect our tickets well ahead of schedule.

First Impressions

I am not sure if the picture below fully captures it, so let me just tell you, we popped out of mass transit into the Middle of Nowhere, Norway.

Fields, a few scattered houses, a small train station, and the track. Note that I did not mention a ticket machine. There weren’t any.

Luckily an earlier train came through only moments after our arrival and the friendly conductor told us to just get on the train when it arrived and they would sort it out.

So we played for an hour in the train station parking lot. When our train came, they assured us that we should just get on. The conductor approached us after we started rolling along and disappeared for awhile with our internet receipt. When he returned he merely said, No problem, and nodded.

We were on our way.

Day 1 - Norwegian Constitution Day

Our first full day in Norway coincided with Norway’s national holiday, the Constitution Day. A brief history of Norway: basically Norway belonged to Denmark for a very long time, while all the while still maintaining something of a separate identity. In 1814 Denmark was defeated by Napoleon and was forced to surrender Norway to Sweden. In an attempt thwart this plan, Norway, with encouragement from Denmark, drafted up a constitution. Sweden replied, meh, and for about another 100 years Norway remained part of Sweden. Nevertheless, it is this original act of independent governance that Norway celebrates as their national holiday.

How do they celebrate?

Well, in the typical ways that nations commemorate such occasions.

Flag waving.

Perrin was into the spirit, but didn’t quite get the subtle difference between waving and sweeping the floor. (For a kid without a steady homeland, he needs some lessons in cultural sensitivity.)

Parades.

If you zoom in really close, you might see the King standing up there on the balcony of the palace. Despite the warm weather that Norway had on either side of this day, it somehow managed to turn bitter cold and sleety on Constitution Day.

Perrin slept through most of the parade in the carrier pack.

Eating traditional foods.

In addition to the delicious brunch spread that Nina’s brother and his girlfriend served up when we first arrived at their house that morning, after the parade (and maybe a glass of wine or two) we had Rommegrot, a Norwegian porridge made from sour cream, and Vasskringele, hard pretzels. Later in the day we poured some coffee, a slab of cake, more wine, and a bit of brandy on top of all that, while Nina’s family entertained Perrin. All three of us decided right away that we were big fans of Norway and their constitution.

Many Norwegians also dress in their traditional costumes on Constitution Day.

It’s not just this TV weather girl. They were all dressed like that.

After a full day of celebrating, we headed back with full bellies to Nina’s flat.

The helium balloon was bought for Perrin by Nina’s mom. His name is Bjorn.

He will show up again.

And in the meantime…we learned from Nina’s family that the airport employees had gone on strike just days before we arrived. Bergen airport was closed and there were threats to close down other airports. We started making thoughts about alternate ways to get to England the following week. Perhaps we would have to head back to Oslo? Or catch a ferry? Or just move into Nina’s flat? But whatever, we were too busy celebrating to give the flights much thought yet.

Day 2 - A Slice of Oslo and a Slab of Elk

If there is one thing we have learned from all of the traveling we have done with Perrin, it is to balance each day of hectic with a day of calm. On our second day in Norway we decided to chill around Oslo, and to keep Perrin happy, we threw a couple of playgrounds into the mix.

We also learned something interesting about Oslo that day. If we were to relocate there with Perrin today, we would have a circle of friends by the end of the week. Twice in the space of a few hours we met parents with young kids, recent immigrants (one Kiwi with a Norwegian hubby and one German couple) who seemed actually a bit disappointed to hear that we were just visiting.

Perrin also managed to make some friends of his own.

In the evening, Nina served up some more local cuisine - elk steaks with mashed potatoes, gravy and asparagus.

And in case you are wondering, yes, elk is very tasty. Although, perhaps not as nice as kangaroo. (I told you that now just because I am amused that I can make the comparison, but it is also true.)

In case you might be wondering, there was no good news on the strikes on day two. The news stations described a stand still with no forseeable settlement. Maybe we would get to keep up our newfound playground friendships after all?

Day 3 - Into the Mountains

On day three, we set of for Nina’s dad’s cabin in the mountains. Based on Nina’s family, we have decided that all Norwegians seem to own cabins in the mountains, but we admit a less than representative sample size.

On the way, Perrin napped in the deserted playroom of the train.

We left the train in the small mountain village of Ustaoset and then caught a shuttle bus up into the nature. From the road, it was just a quick climb up the snowy hill to the cabin.

Inside, it was the very image of cozy.

Perrin checked everything out right away.

There is Bjorn again. He made it all the way from Oslo into the mountains and then we forgot him there. I imagine he is waiting patiently on the floor somewhere for the next visitors.

That’s Nina getting started on lunch.

Shrimp. Tasty shrimp.

Yum.

With full bellies, we bundled up and played in the melting May snow.

Nina talked to her brother later in the afternoon and the strike was still on. Now we started thinking hard about back up plans, but we decided not to change any flights quite yet.

Day 4 - Blobbing in the Mountains

When Nina got up the next morning (we tended to wake up earlier thanks to our 14 month old alarm clock), she shared with us some good news from the radio. Sometime in the dead of the night the airport strike had broken. Our procrastination had paid off and we could fly out of Bergen. Just when we were starting to look forward to a potential new life in Oslo.

For the rest of day we did a whole lot of pleasant nothing.

Moving across the world in a few weeks? Best not to think about it.

This photo has no narrative value but it is darn cute. (Taken by Nina.)

Day 5 - Off on Our Own

On the fifth day in Norway, we left our mountain refuge and hopped back on the trains. At this point we also parted ways with Nina who was carrying on towards Bergen while we spent a couple days amongst the Hardanger fjords.

Perrin slept most of the way after first getting a good scream out of his system. Most of the people in our car were were quite a bit older and just seemed to think he was cute. Being hard of hearing helps sometimes.

After a train to the town of Voss and a bus to the village of Ulvik, we found ourselves here…

At the Ulvik Camp Site.

Where there appeared to be no one in. Except for two little old ladies in cabin number two. The first spoke no English, but she disappeared and returned with her friend who did. She pointed out that there were keys sticking out of the cabin doors. Do you know your number? Ahem, no. When she learned that we had booked a couple weeks ago, she suggested that we were probably cabin number one since they had only booked the day before, so we dragged our bags into the first cabin. Here we encountered the second snag. Thinking that there would be a staff member on-site when we arrived, Ben hadn’t bothered to reserve bedding. The helpful lady from next door told us that the owner had already been by for the day about half an hour before.

All you can think in situations like this is thank friggin god for cell phones. We had one and so did the camp site owner who was out at the moment building a jetty (as one does), but he could swing by again around 9. No problem.

Time to look around Ulvik.

Not bad, eh.

The camp site dude didn’t arrive at nine, but he was there by a quarter til ten. Perrin had already fallen asleep on top of two of our t-shirts after drinking a bottle of powdered milk, because he knows how to rough it.

Day 6 - Fjords, Fjords, Fjords and Stuff

I decided that one couldn’t visit Norway without taking a boat through some fjords, so on our first morning in Ulvik we headed through town towards the information center.

On the way, we stopped by the old church in the village center.

From the outside it looks a bit small town American presbyterian meh. But on the inside…

It was beautifully painted.

We learned from the nice lady at the tourist info center that there was in fact a ferry leaving in just over an hour that would take us to nearby Eidfjord where we would have about three hours to look around before we needed to head back. The trip would take about 1/2 hour one way which was well within Perrin’s sit-still-on-public-transport quotient, so we decided to go for it. We scurried back to the cabin, packed a picnic, and made it back to the pier to catch our boat.

This is what the view from the ferry looked like.

Fjords are cool. Even the word “fjord” is pretty cool.

We landed in Eidfjord around 11:30, popped into the tourist center there and found ourselves an appropriate walk through the nature, and set off.

We passed a troll on our way to the path, as one does in Norway.

Despite our eventful morning, we were back at the camp site by around 3:30 with plenty of time to chill before dinner.

Perrin quickly discovered the joy that was being able to go inside and outside and up the stairs and down the stairs all by himself. Over and over and over again.

For dinner, we had purchased some veggies and meatballs that we planned to serve with leftover pasta and potatoes from the previous nights. During our ten days in Norway, we managed to consume meatballs three times despite the fact, as Nina informed us, they are actually more of a Swedish thing. One of the great things about meatballs in Norwegian is the name -kjotekaken, which when spoken rapidly in Norwegian sounds just a bit like “shitty kaka”. We found this greatly amusing because you don’t often get two fecal puns in just one food. Especially one food that bears a little resemblance to poop anyway. Also, we have the sense of humor of twelve year old boys.

Since we were only going to be in the cabin for a couple nights, we were reluctant to buy a big block of butter, so instead we selected a small, tin-wrapped block of something next to the butter, which we assumed was some sort of animal fat. We took the name, “versk gjaer”, as a potential confirmation of this theory, since “versk” sounded just a little bit like “Ferkel” the German word for piglet and our German had been serving us well with Norwegian signs and instructions so far. But when I opened the package to start cooking up some kjotekaken, I was struck by the slightly odd smell. And when I tried to melt it in the bottom of the pan, it just turned plasticky and pink. So we tossed the block, washed the pan, and tried to cook the meatballs in their own fat. When that didn’t work, we boiled them in the gravy, along with the leftover potatoes, which I had planned on frying. Then we poured the whole thing over the noodles and served it up with veggies. It actually tasted a lot better than it sounds. I assure you.

See. Perrin liked it.

It wasn’t until we arrived in Bergen and related the story to Nina that we learned that we had actually tried to fry our meatballs using a block of fresh yeast.

Day 7 - Reuniting in Bergen

This was my typical Norwegian breakfast while we were camping. A cup of coffee and a bread roll with jam and Norwegian brown cheese. The jam was supposed to be cloudberry, something special to Norway, but since I couldn’t remember the word on my own, I think we ended up with plum. Norwegian brown cheese is something even more particular. It has a strange sweet taste to it. Some of the English people upon whom we forced this cheese later described it as “caramel-like”. In any case it is an odd flavor that I encourage you to try if the chance ever presents itself. Ben and I both liked it. Perrin rejected the store bought brown cheese, but was into the more expensive special brown cheese that Nina bought while we stayed in Bergen.

After filling up on one of these on Friday morning, we packed our things, cleaned the cabin, stood in the rain for ten minutes, and then boarded a bus, and later a train to Bergen - the final destination for our Norwegian adventure.

Perrin during our wait for the train in Voss. Not a bad view for a stopover.

In Bergen we stayed at Nina’s dad’s house. One of three if you count the cabin in the mountains as a house. See what you can do with all of the extra money when you have universal health care people? I am just sayin. Oh, it also helps to be from an oil rich country with a small population.

What Perrin liked most about Nina’s dad’s house was the floor lamps. Oh so many floor lamps with light switches easily accessible to his little chubby fingers.

Dear Nina’s Dad, Sorry about all of the dead light bulbs. Dada dis goodagoodagood, Perrin

Day 8 - Bergen

I am running out of blog steam folks. Bergen was beautiful. See for yourself.

Later that night we ate pizza and watched the Eurovision Song Contest. What? Those are both totally part of Norwegian culture.

Russia won.

At least they are actually in Europe. [I’m looking at you, Israel.]

Day 9 - The Vikings

Can you believe I have gone this far in a post about Norway without mentioning the Vikings? We actually saw a Viking burial site awhile back in Eidfjord. Well, we were supposed to see one anyway, and we think we did, but it could also have just been a hilly patch or some big mole hills. Anyway, it didn’t make for a very good picture.

The stave church that we saw on our last full day in Norway, on the other hand, was very photogenic.

Pretty cool, huh? These were built in the middle ages all around northern Europe but almost all of the surviving examples are in Norway today. You can see from the top that they pretty much took the technologies developed to make the big viking boats and turned that into a roof. This church outside of Bergen is actually a transplant and a replica. The original was found somewhere else and then moved to this hill by some interested rich dude, I think. Then that church was burnt down in the early 1990s by a nutjob Satanist (I have a great tolerance for religious beliefs, but none for disrespect of archaeology). They reconstructed this one not long afterwards using the same techniques favored by the Vikings including the use of tar as a sealant. Perrin enjoyed climbing all over the church and I now know how to remove tar from baby jeans. (The secret is olive oil and lots of scraping.)

Nina had to leave on Sunday to get back to Oslo for work. Ben and I spent our last night in Norway watching Pride and Prejudice on TV and amusing ourselves about the Norwegian subtitles.

Day 10 - Last Tour of Bergen

On the way to the airport shuttle we managed to take in a couple more sites.