A Poem for Norway

Passing months in my young TIMES: footloose in Norway from winter till SPRINGTIME.

Six months, one hundred and sixty five days or four thousand HOURS; regardless of your numeric, they ALL equate to new self-enlightened POWER.

Memories of cultures and people and PLACES; smiles so wide they could
fill empty SPACES.

Friendships forged on the rock of distant LANDS; left to pleasant memories when my feet come home AGAIN.

Norway I will miss you surely, I dare not contest THAT. The Fjords of your landscape; upon my heart they have TRACKED.

Your northern sea was the most pleasant of SIGHTS; through my window, its ocean breeze whispered quietly in the NIGHT.

Furthermore I will miss you Kristiansand, you were a lovely modest TOWN; the downtown square, the Nordic church that towered above the cobblestone GROUND.

I will remember walking through your roads in the cold winter AIR; gazing at the snow-covered fish market without a single nagging CARE.

The colors of your houses and the crisscrossing of your STREETS; I will tuck them away and memorize them all like my own private TREAT.

But now I sadly miss the nation that I call HOME; its time to say goodbye to Norway- its time to finish my ROAM.

So farewell rocky coastlines and the land of midnight SUN; goodbye to the place where Viking legends and grandiose history was once SPUN...
Goodbye Norway; a piece of my heart you have WON.

My Trek Through Austria, The Czech Repubic, Germany and Amsterdam

This past week, I traveled like I have never traveled before. For once in my life, I felt like a true world traveler, marching across an unfamiliar continent like a sultan conquering new lands. Yesterday I looked at my eyes in the mirror and smiled- I smiled at what they have seen. I know it sounds strange, but after visiting 6 countries in one month, I am left alone in my quite dorm with peculiar feelings to which I cannot describe. However, it’s time to buckle down and study vigorously for my finals, and then, I will meet two of my best pals (Matt Benshoof and John Winters) in Rome for one final trek through Europe.
To translate some things about last week's trip, I have composed a handy little collection of interesting figures about my experience...ENJOY!

Number of Modes of Transportation Used- 6
Bus, Car, Plane, Train, Tram and Bicycle

Number of Different Countries my Feet Touched- 6
Austria, The Czech Republic, Germany, The Netherlands, Denmark (just the airport) and Norway

Number of Currencies Used- 3
The Norwegian Kroner, The Czech Kroner and the European Euro

Number of Pictures Taken- 345
I took the most in Amsterdam

Number of Flights- 3
Norway to Germany, Prague to Eindhoven, Amsterdam to Norway

Longest Car Ride- 5 Hours
Drove all night through Germany to get to Austria.

Pounds of Chocolate consumed- Unknown
Austrian chocolate is the most delectable chocolate I have ever tasted.

Number of Cuisines that I Ate- 6 (that I can recall)
Austrian, Bavarian (German), Indian, Italian, Chinese and American-style

Number of Languages Heard- Unknown
I definitely heard German, Austrian, Norwegian and Czech before Amsterdam. However, I easily heard dozens after that.

Number of Souvenirs/Gifts Purchased- 12
I brought back a colorful pile of little gifts and memorable items for myself.

Ireland!

My trip to the Celtic world began as a quiet night drive from Dublin to the historic Irish city Galway. As we drove across the small island that is Ireland, I peered blindly through my window into the darkness and thought excitedly, “I can’t wait to see what the countryside looks like in the light.” With a three hour drive ahead of us, I turned on the radio and flicked through an unfamiliar broadcast of Irish melodies and accents, until finally reaching a recognizable tune (or at least a tune that that the girls in the backseat agreed to).
After spending the night in a rather stinking hostel, smelling like a conglomeration of body odor, flatulation and mold, we woke up early undaunted to charge Galway on foot. Like God smiling down on our trip, the sun shone brightly overhead, blessing my first real sight of Ireland with happy spring weather. As we walked into Galway’s center, the roads narrowed into pedestrian walkways filled with happy shoppers, bright colors and the occasional Irish tune strumming on a violin. Strangely, I was still recovering from a recent flu-like sickness, yet I remember feeling like my cheerfulness in that moment remedied all lingering symptoms.
We didn’t waste much time in Galway however, as the Cliffs of Moher awaited us less than a few hours away. We jumped into the rental (on the wrong side of the car might I remind you, as they drive on the left side of the road in Ireland and Scotland) and entered the rolling countryside. Instantly the narrow streets of Galway city were replaced with rolling green hills, dotted with crumbling stone walls and fluffy white sheep. One castle and one stop at a particularly scenic segment of land later, we finally arrived at the infamous Cliffs of Moher.
As we walked to the cliffs, the rolling countryside suddenly plummeted into the sea as if Ireland had been ripped violently from a primordial continent and tossed into the ocean. I approached the side and gazed down with the emotions of a curious little boy, marveling at the leviathan scale of it all- there were so many mesmerizing characteristics to take in at once. If I looked far below, I could see hundreds of sea gulls flying in-between the cliffs below with waves of white splashing against the rocky wall. But if I looked further up the cliff sides, I could see multi-layered colors within the rock, like the characteristics of a super decked chocolate cake. My heart swelled as I realized that, surely, as I ran my eyes down the layers of rock, I was gazing back into time, each layer being another million-year-old step backward.
The next 36 hours became a bit of a fun blur. We visited the city of Limerick, ate big meals, laughed outrageously, explored old graveyards, drank delicious Guinness in small Irish pubs, and finally, rode into Dublin on the morning of Saint Patty’s day. We booked a hostel, which compared to our first experience in Galway, was like a fancy condo. However, we hardly spent two hours there before heading to the Guinness factory for an extensive tour of the magic behind the flavor that I so enjoy, followed by a foaming glass of beer on top of the factory. From up here, you could enjoy a panoramic view of Dublin. Looking out over its industrial skyline of smoking chimney stacks and rugged brick buildings while holding a Guinness in my hand (on Saint Patty’s Day might I add), I felt overwhelmingly excited to stretch my legs in the city.
That night, I refused to drink anything but Guinness, which I swear to you, in Ireland, tastes like nectar brewed from the Gods. The first sip is my favorite. It pours across your tongue, soaking your taste buds in the rich flavor of a full-bodied beer, and then quenches your dry throat, which has been made hoarse from shouting across the pub. At last, you lick away the thick white foam mustache that only a good Guinness can give you and let out a refreshing sigh…
On Saint Patty’s Day in Dublin, the streets are filled with painted faces and silly green hats- the pubs are filled with authentic Irish music and singing voices- and on this particular Saint Patty’s Day, I was filled with nothing short of outright intense happiness.

Thoughts from Ireland and Scotland

March 22, 2010

As I write this opening, an overwhelming sense of astonishment seems to confound me…
This past week, I traveled the Celtic world as I have dreamed about since I was a skinny adolescent boy. I drove through the green country side of Ireland, gazed down the jagged cliffs of Moher, drank a beer in Dublin on Saint Patty’s Day, climbed the Scottish Highlands and touched the historic stone of medieval castles. Yet despite my valid effort to describe these things, language has a certain inadequacy, a certain inherent deficiency in translation.
Quite frankly, I am lost for words, not in aptitude, but by the very limitations presented by language itself when expressing the profound. I could never fully sum the accumulation of wonderment, new friendship, and emotions that resulted in this trip. Nor could I fully translate the atmosphere of Dublin in the late hours of Saint Patty’s day, or the way a tiny Scottish village looks in the morning light.
But I suppose that’s why I have decided to wander, as I have never truly believed in the transcendentalist doctrine of some writers, who, living in their cabins stripped away from the bustle of society, suggested that the mind is the only necessary vessel. I argue, as significant as the mind may be, there is no supplement for direct experience- there is no substitute for smelling, tasting, seeing, breathing, hearing, feeling the richness of this magnificent world. And for those sound in mind, embracing the truth of open-mindedness, I believe that wandering can advocate extraordinary things, such as wisdom, tolerance and maybe even, spiritual abundance.
Wow, I’m having some deep thoughts tonight! Perhaps I will leave you with this as my introduction and continue soon with my separate blogs for Ireland and Scotland…

Things that I Miss/Valentines Day Party

Yes, it has been too long since my last post...
This is partly my own fault and partly the fault of bad luck (regrettably a part of almost every traveler's experience I must say). The good news is I now have a functioning computer in my dorm again, and my connection to the world feels rekindled once more. But fortunately, the bad luck of my computer crashing was merely a tiny road bump on a long trip that still lies ahead.
Since it's been roughly three weeks since my last post, I thought it would be fun to post a randomness of pictures from the Valentine's Day Party (and one picture from the Austrian fiesta...hosted by two awesome Austrian girls), while making a list of the top twelve things that I miss most in The United States. Think of it as a brief Norway collage- something to get you caught up quickly in a cluttered sort of way. And so, may I present to you my top twelve list of things that I miss most (and enjoy the pictures of course)...

Top Twelve Things I Miss the Most in the U.S.A. (the order is not precise except for number 1)

1) My family, friends and girlfriend
2) Beef- good affordable beef
3) A dentist that works more than once a week
4) Pancakes and waffles smothered in maple syrup
5) People saying thank you when you hold the door open for them
6) My truck
7) A microwave
8) Ounces, Pounds, Miles, Yards, Feet, Inches, Fahrenheit
9) Signs written in English
10)Newspapers written in English
11)A six pack that costs less than 16 dollars (or a beer in the club that costs less then $10)
12)My cell phone

Okay, so after reviewing my post, it's obvious that I require a separate food list entirely. This is not to say that I do not enjoy the food in Norway(just look at one of my earlier posts if you do not believe me). It's just that...well...when I get back home I will savor some things like I have never savored before.

Dylan's Additional List of Food that he Misses
1) Ranch Dressing (where the heck is the ranch! I speak of it as if it is a legend)
2) A home cooked meal prepared by the one and only; my momma
3) A meat-filled, mayonnaise-saturated sandwich, heaping with garnish on sliced American bread
4) Granola Bars (they do not exist in Norway...why god, why?)
5) Mexican food (your a long way away from La Mesa Todo)

My Weekend in Larvik

The other day my mother asked me like I was a little school boy on his first day of kindergarten, "Are you making a lot of new friends?"
My response- "I'm making the right friends."
Tonight the international students are attending an all-you-can-eat cruise to Denmark. It seems fun and adventurous enough- pay 250 Kroner and eat/drink all your stomach can withstand. However, after my trip to Larvik this past weekend, I can't help but feel content in my blue pajama pants, drinking Pepsi while I study European Politics.

O where to begin?

Firstly, I believe a thank you is in order. That being said; thank you Mats for making me feel comfortable since my first day in Norway, thank you Hans for inviting me into your home, and thank you Eric for driving through hours of icy, winding roads so that I could see Heddal Church. And of course, thank you to Han's parents (whose names I do not wish to butcher with my spelling)for introducing me to some Norwegian culture, for letting me eat your food, for buying us all beer, and for giving me a warm bed to sleep in. It may not seem like much to you, but your hospitality was a comforting moment for me in this place so far away from everything familiar to what I call home.

Now when I talk of this past weekend, three things come to mind. One- going to a national cross country skiing championship. Two- listening to records of The Beatles, Pink Floyd, The Doors, Bob Marley, and Crosby, Steels, Nash and Young. And Three- seeing an 800-year-old wooden church.

Needless to say, if you know me (or even just of me, at that haha), you can probably guess that Heddal Church was the climax of my weekend in Larvik. Just imagine...

We arrived at dusk when there was just a hint of light still glowing in the sky. As I walked into the old graveyard surrounding Heddal, I stood frozen before the church. I felt as if I should bow or kneal to something so magnificent. Like a scene only found in paintings, fluffy snowflakes drifted around the church in a setting of blue twilight caressed in winter stillness. I thought, "this is why I came to Norway".
Inside Heddal, rows of pews stood before a back ground of painted walls, drawn by the hands of people long before or great-great-great ancestors. I looked at the ancient altar in front of my eyes disbelievingly.
I contemplated, "For nearly 800 years the voices of the long dead once filled these walls". It`s strange to utter, but the construction of a church made entirely of wood, in a way, made it seem as if ancient voices could somehow be absorbed into the porous timber...
I couldn't´t help but notice how every one in the group touched the "original" parts of the church solemnly.

Culture Shock

Day 20

At first, I planned to blog about the “Blow Out” international student party that took place on Thursday. However, I thought it would be more enlightening to write briefly about a culture shock that I have been experiencing here in Norway.
Firstly, I would like to acknowledge that every Norwegian that I have met thus far is not only nice, but appreciative of the differences we share. The signs of democracy, open-mindedness and an evolved society resonate from every street corner and classroom here in Norway, and as an American, I am lucky to get the chance to be here. That being said, I will move on to my next point.
In the United States (as I’ve realized more from living in Norway), we are actually quite chivalrous to one another! I guess, in being confined to the homogeneous mixture of my society, and having only spent a few weeks of my life in Mexico and The Bahamas, I was quite unaware of this fact. But I speak the truth! In the American public setting, it is not all that uncommon to see people holding doors open for each other, or to hear the exchange of such words as “please” and “excuse me” between complete strangers. But hear in Norway (as I was told in my second international student meaning), you will rarely hear the word “please, you will seldom see men holding doors open for women, and you will almost never here the phrase “excuse me”.
Now...when being exposed to this for the first time, a recluse American might ask, “Are Norwegians or worse yet, is Norwegian society innately rude?”
NO!
I would need to politely remind this American (who I unfortunately find myself being in brief moments), that this behavior is not the result of rudeness; it is merely the result of a different society that has formed thousands of miles away from our homes, culture, and history. Needless to say, it has taken some adjusting to. And even now, three weeks into my trip, I still find myself feeling mildly offended when I say “excuse me” after being bumped into by a stranger, and the gesture is not returned.
I would like to conclude by saying, these mannerisms, although hard to adjust to, are quite subtle. They are surface deep if you will, and I can guarantee, if you fall on the ice (unfortunately as I had to learn with a cup of coffee in my hand), or if you need help with Norwegian translation, or if you are just lost and need directions, Norwegians are always friendly and happy to help.

A Beautiful Day

Day 13

I’ve been told that there is a network of nature trails just beyond the university, tucked away behind the town of Kristiansand. Thus far, I have been very pleased with my cold treks out into the downtown, my long jaunts through the local area, and my quiet nights of solitude where I sit back and read and write alone in my dorm. But yesterday, with no classes or responsibilities holding me back, and nothing but a wide open sunny day ahead, I decided that it was time to go and explore a trail. So I packed up a water bottle, threw on my backpack and headed out the door.
The walk to the trail alone takes around twenty minutes. Once I arrived to the path opening just behind the university, the city vanished and was replaced by a wintry forest almost instantly. I pressed on a little further, this time ascending up a different hill, and when I reached the top; rustic beauty. I realized that I now stood on much higher ground then my sense had perceived, and I was overlooking a lower landscape of frozen ice, protruding rocks and rich green evergreen.
In that moment, it reminded me so much of Colorado, but on steroids! Indeed, both Colorado and Norway have geological similarities because of the effects of ancient glacial erosion, yet Norway seems more “scarred” if you will, more blemished. Like the cracks in an old man’s face, the landscape changes drastically within just a few hundred meters. I can’t imagine what it will be like to see the Fjords of western Norway when the weather warms.
It is midnight right now Matty, but I composed this blog entry very quick before bed especially for you (as I read your face book message, and can totally understand your curiosity friend). However, the little triad of pictures the blog allows me to post will probably do no justice, so for your entertainment, I will leave you with this precise rendition of a moment I felt on my hike today (it was right after I took the picture to the left hand side)…
I reached a point in my hike where the trail narrowed, about an hour or so into my secluded excursion. And much to my pleasure, I soon recognized that I now stood at the source of the icy lake below, which I first saw in the lower region stretching out underneath the winding trail like a slice of the arctic. Of course, without wings or hawk eyes, it was hard for me to know exactly what was happening in this dynamic landscape. Yet two things were irrefutably certain- one, a different and higher positioned lake rested to my left. And two, an icy stream dumped from its depths and cascaded through the sleepy forest, down to the motionless lake below. It was so beautiful, the way the water moved. My ears were caressed with its quiet trickle, and my eyes marveled as I watched the cold water traverse across the ice, which unbelievably looked exactly like the water, only frozen into a sculpture of motion.
At that moment I turned to the upper lake and faced the North Sea. I closed my eyes and took a long deep breath of the cool ocean air, and pictured a man doing the same thing, standing near that very spot, but sometime 500 years ago. And then I thought about my family and friends thousands of miles away, who support me no matter what I do, no matter how far or long I travel...and I smiled...

More Then a Vacation

January 10th, 2010
Day 10

This weekend began with a bang.
Friday night was the International Student party and it was hosted in the downstairs “social” room right here at my dorm, Kongsgard Alle. There were people from Germany, Italy, France, Romania, Britain, Kenya, Austria, Poland, The Netherlands, Norway, and even Australia (just to name a few). Together the room was filled with a plethora of accents and lots of drinking and laughter. And even…some intense rounds of the American drinking game “tippy cup”! ha ha.
However with all of the excitement on Friday night, it was easy to forget one thing; this is already the longest I’ve ever been away from home…
By now, on any kind of vacation I have ever experienced, it would be time to pack up that pile of accumulated dirty clothes, catch the quickest ride to the airport and then, head home. And strange as it may sound, there is a part of me that feels like that’s exactly what should be happening. It’s kinda like that biological clock that wakes you up sometimes in the morning, just minutes before your alarm clock buzzes.
But my experience here has just begun. I will be here long enough to see the snow melt and the seasons change in Norway. And hopefully, I will be here long enough to learn some permanent and untranslatable things, through a journey that I have never had the opportunity to take. Either way, it’s a quiet Sunday in my dorm and today I miss my mom & dad, friends, family, and Elsie very much, so I thought I would write it down.
I love my “adventure” here, but I miss you all and am very grateful for each and every one of you! :)

All The Skinny People

Day 6
My diet has become RADICALLY different in Norway. There are no Burger Kings, Mc.Donalds or WalMarts for hundreds of miles. But please, don’t feel bad for the Norwegian people, for their diets and car-less lifestyles have given them something we Americans pay millions of dollars every year for; flat stomachs. If you don’t believe me, come and see for yourself! Everyone in Norway is skinny and fit looking…
Today in the main lobby of Agder, I stopped and counted forty people. Of those forty people, not one was overweight. Yes, not one. In fact I would wager that since my arrival in Norway 6 days ago, I have seen less then ten overweight people all together! Of course with any population, there are some exceptions, however, most Norwegian men I have met are slender with high cheek bones, and the women; tall, skinny and naturally blonde.
Yet, I think there is more to this story than just the absence of fast food, with its burgers and fries dripping in oily animal fat. Yes, I would also wager that “skinniness” in Norway is the result of the quality of food as well. The food here consists of the most natural things I have ever tasted. The milk tastes like someone squeezed it straight from the cow into your glass. The cheese fills your nostrils when you open the package, like it has been pasteurized right there in your kitchen. The jam has thick chunks of fresh strawberries floating in it, so that you get a piece of fruit in every bite. And the bread…..its the most delicious bread I have ever tasted.
Pictured above is a photo of the food I purchased on my most recent trip to the grocery store. My bill- 442 kroner (or about 80 bucks). I know, expensive as hell, but soooo ridiculously delicious!

First Day Of School

January 4th, 2010

Day 4

Today I walked.

I walked to the university with Mats and fifteen other exchange students at 8:00 this morning. After orientation and breakfast, I walked with a much larger group of exchange students on a guided tour of the university. Then I walked to the Sia building (the company on campus in charge of my dorm room) to initiate an internet agreement, so that I may get an internet connection in my room as soon as possible. Next I walked to building H (a junction building with the main lobby) to meet my class advisor. Then I walked with Tom (another exchange student from UNO) to the grocery store fifteen minutes away from campus to get the bare essentials. And then finally…I walked ten minutes back to my dorm room carrying three full grocery bags and a box of frozen pizza wedged beneath my arm.

Strange, but few people in Kristiansand actually own cars- life is simpler here. For the next 5 months, I will walk or ride a bicycle everywhere. And for those longer explorative trips, I will have to travel by bus, cab, train or ferry. But I don’t mind, in fact, I even welcome this change. It’s just another one of the many things that will be different and enlightening about my life here in Norway.

The campus of Agder University is much smaller then UNO’s, but it is EXTREMELY nice. Surrounded by small cottages and old churches, the building itself resembles a sort of high tech industrial plant dropped from somewhere in the sky. As I walked in this morning, tall metal walls and machine-like staircases rose up in it's bowels like a factory of education. But unlike the mechanical drones that one might predict running such a place, every person I met in Agder was kind, friendly and comforting to meet.

The First "Stroll" From My Dorm Room

January 3^rd

^{Day 3}

I arrived in Kristiansand last night around 11:30PM.

Two girls from UNO arrived about an hour before my flight, but much to my delight, they waited for me at the airport. From there, we split the price of a cab and took the twenty minute commute to the central bus station, where we waited in the bitter cold for our designated ride from the University of Agder. Now for those reading this, let it be known, that when I say bitter cold, I mean frigid, freeze your blood into ice kind of cold. In fact the native” who picked us up claimed that Norway is experiencing an unusually cold winter this year (as if Norway isn’t already cold enough in the beginning of January).

It turns out this “native” is also studying Political Science and will be taking two classes with me this semester. His name is Mats. But don’t try to pronounce the name, for I am quickly realizing that learning even the simplest Norwegian words is like acrobatics for my tongue. They have letters in their alphabet that seem to come from somewhere in the back of the throat. I literally fail at almost every word I attempt, but I will continue to try everyday.

Today, after putting on a pair of wool socks, long johns, a turtle neck, another pair of socks over the wool socks, my winter jacket, gloves, and a silly hat (yes the blue one Elsie), I headed out into the freezing cold for hours by myself to explore some of Kristiansand. And what did I see but people everywhere, doing much the same thing that I was!

Like a warm summer day back in Nebraska, people were walking their dogs, riding their bikes, chatting in groups and playing with their kids. The only difference was they wore layer upon layer of clothing like me, as if the next ice age was coming. I guess the fliers I read about Norway are true: Norwegians love being outside, regardless of the weather.

The Flight

January 1^st and 2^nd, 2010

Day 1-2

Today I said my final goodbyes and began my long trek to Norway. Pictured to the left is Mom, Dad, Matty and Jessica seeing me off in Omaha AND above are 2 pictures of my dorm in Norway; my new home for the next 5 months.

My first connection flight took me from Omaha to Minneapolis; a brief minute compared to the crappy 9 hour flight to Amsterdam that followed. Nonetheless, if the trip were any shorter at all, it might hinder that great feeling of adventure that seems to follow me through each new airport gate, through each new city that I must visit along the way. All things considered, the long journey is a good thing.

My original plan was to venture out into Amsterdam for a few hours, but the drizzling weather and uncertainty of my good sense (as the result of jet lag) caused me to opt out of that plan quickly. I will explore the city in the warmth of June, when I am better prepared and the weather is more welcoming. Yet I will say, although I decided against leaving the confines of the airport, the stark differences I experienced were very notable.

I’m writing this first entry as I sit in the Amsterdam airport and await my last flight to Norway.

The airport itself is like a roofed city. There are jewelry stores and European clothing outlets, there are casinos and fancy restaurants everywhere. There is even a small museum with colorful oil paintings from the 1700’s. It is definitely the most elaborate airport I have ever seen.

But Europe is a strange and confusing place to me. When I look around the airport, everything about it has lost its familiarity. Pay phones have become strange looking blue digital boxes that eat up your money like rigged slot machines. Money has become stiff blue paper and nickel-sized coins worth bizarrely more than my American dollar. English dialogue has become nearly nonexistent, being replaced by the almost crude, but indescribably appealing dialect of the Dutch. I found myself tuning into their conversations, amazed by how a language can be so heavily saturated in sharp constanents, but still posses a certain underlying friendliness.

I look forward very much to coming back and exploring the actual city of Amsterdam, but first, I must reach my ultimate destination; Norway.