My First Year Living in Norway….in a nutshell.

When we first moved to Oslo in the summer of 2015, I awakened each morning looking at the white wall beams high above me and wondered, “What will we do today?”

Everything was new:  living in our small 900 sq. ft. apartment, my walk to the grocery store and shopping for smoked salmon, brown cheese, and cucumbers, looking for adventurous activities for the boys, learning the Ruter (public transportation) system, finding appropriate length hikes and sandy beaches to explore, listening to Norwegian, and last, but not least, for the first time in 15 years, I was not defined by my occupation. You could say that I went from being sure of who I was in a certain place and time as a pastor, to suddenly not knowing my role or who I was. I felt quite vulnerable, insecure, and unsure of anything, the minute I stepped out the apartment door onto Vestheimgata. It was all NEW.

I have learned that for our family, it has taken an entire year to adjust and get used to all this newness. Through this experience we have been shaped to think differently about ourselves, our family, our friends, the strangers we meet, our church, community, and the world.

The following reflections are what I’ve thought about, experienced and learned, and how the lens through which I see is just a little bit different now that I’ve lived in Norway for a year. First of all, I have to say that it was a choice to move here. It was a choice my husband and I made as we discerned the tug of our hearts and truly felt God’s call to be here in this place we now call home. Our children on the other hand might have different opinion about how and why we came to Oslo. One more thing we’ve learned; moving a family isn’t easy, regardless of where you move and sometimes, not knowing what you are in for, is a good thing.

Norwegian culture is not that different from what I grew up with. I come from a Scandinavian background and heritage, which defines a good part of who I am. But with that being said, being Norwegian is very different from being American. I have to admit, when we moved here I had a lot of preconceived notions of how I thought Norway would be.  Over the last year I’ve discovered most of them aren’t true. I am an idealist and have read portions of “Scandinavia: Land of the Almost Perfect People”, therefore, I’ll tell you I actually heard these words rolling around in my head prior to departure……. “Norway will be so much better than the US on so many levels. I’m sure we won’t use plastic bags, the grocery stores will not allow chemicals on produce or anything that might harm the consumer, it will be immaculately clean, schools will be far ahead of where we came from, my kids will be accepted by the Norwegian kids, and we will all learn the language quickly.” Since actually living in Norway, I have found my heart has been pushed, pulled, and yanked at with all its reality, which is neither good nor bad, but simply, different. As my ten year old would say, “It’s just life.”

Here are a few things I’ve learned about Norway and its inhabitants……

• Norwegians ARE hard to get to know, especially if they have never lived outside of Norway and have never been a stranger in a foreign land. You should NEVER ask a Norwegian that you don’t know VERY WELL, “How are you doing?” They might feel threatened and think they have to answer and tell you about every personal aspect and detail of their life. You just simply say hello and move on with whatever you are doing with them.
• Norwegians DO use plastic bags and plenty of them. You could put a cement block in any one of them and it would hold. They are amazingly sturdy. Apparently, you can eat some of them, as they are made of very compostable material, not that I would recommend it. (But, perhaps if you were in the woods and ran out of food and it was your last option…… then you could eat your bag.)
• Oslo is very different and diverse compared to the rest of Norway. I have been told by Norwegians, “Oslo isn’t the REAL Norway.” (Whatever that means.) I’m going to the west coast next week. Maybe then, I’ll see and experience the REAL Norway. I don’t know, I think Oslo is pretty real when it comes to diversity, integration, and what it means to be Norwegian or NOT.
• When learning a language, you have to be vulnerable. My dear Irish-Norwegian-who-speaks-Italian friend Camilla told me that the first time I met her and I’ve tried my best to be vulnerable whenever I have the opportunity to speak and use my Norwegian. The other day, I spent 5 minutes with my pharmacist, who spoke ONLY Norwegian with me and it took THAT long to understand he was asking for photo ID. When I finally recognized the words and the light bulb went on, it was beautiful. I’ve got a LONG ways to go, but I’ve got a good base to go from.
• Bunads are cool and I wish I were Norwegian, just so I could wear one. They are a source of pride and heritage. Of course, I could wear a traditional folk dress from the Swedish area my family is from…..maybe I should look into that. It is really a source of identity and that is a good thing, I think. This year on syttende mai, I wore a blue suit (with a Norwegian flag pin), along with red clogs. I looked like an airline stewardess. I got several looks while walking down the streets, as Norwegians do not hesitate to stare at you, or glare at you, especially when you are wearing something with color. Black and gray are ALL these Oslo-ites wear, except when they dress in their national costume, then color abounds.
• Norwegians don’t mean to be rude, but sometimes they just are. I’ve discovered that they are just totally unaware of other people. They hardly ever acknowledge you while walking down the city streets, but they will when you cross paths in the forest. They will also budge and cut in front of you when waiting in line, walk as slow as they want and not move over when you want to pass them, and most often use their “Norwegian arm” when they want something on the table that is far away from them. This self-centered attitude really comes historically from being separated from people who lived over the next mountain or across the fjord. They didn’t HAVE to talk to anyone else. It isn’t bad or good. It just is. After a year, I’ve fought the urge to give up saying hello or at least acknowledging the other person on the street, but when I see someone, I just say a good ol’ fashioned American hello and greet them, just because I like to see them squirm a bit. They are usually a little bit caught off guard, but most people smile! That is a great accomplishment.
• Norwegians like to use the “F” word in English because it naturally seems to roll off their tongue and they are not emotionally attached to it like I am. Because it is my native language it drives me absolutely nuts to hear it at soccer games and out on the street. Actually, most kids use every swear word in the book and it comes out of their mouth as if they’ve been drinking heavily. Maybe they have.
• Kids here in Norway have a lot of freedom. They also learn about sex way before I ever did. When my son told me he learned about sex in school, I was concerned that he didn’t understand everything that was told to him in Norwegian. He responded with, “Yes, mom. I understood everything and I sure wish I hadn’t!” In the US, we might not tell our kids enough, not soon enough. In Norway, they give the kids way too much information and all too soon. Norway is one of the most promiscuous countries in the world. Now, I need to clarify that this was something I’ve heard from other people. It is not a fact that Norway is one of the most promiscuous places in the world and I cannot write something that I cannot back up with real data. As my Norwegian friend challenged me on this, I realized it was too general and I need to have some good solid evidence when I proceed forward! What I was really trying to say was…..somehow there has to be a compromise in between not enough and too much information…..I guess it is ALL out on the table then. Maybe that’s what our kids need!
• Norway imports most of the fresh fruits and veggies, naturally, because there isn’t any place to grow them here. They come regular (conventionally grown) or organic, just like in the US. Take your pick: pesticides or no pesticides. If you pick no pesticides, you pay the price of a small cow. I will say that what IS grown here, tastes superior. When it comes to strawberries, beets, rutabagas, or carrots, they surpass the rest of the world.
• The schools are different. Not better or worse, just different. I will say that my children are outside playing a lot more and it doesn’t matter what kind of weather, they are dressed for it all. They have many breaks outside each day, with time to play four square, stickball, or fotball. During this school year, my younger son learned how to knit, macramé, and refined his drawing skills. When they went on a field trip to the park, they needed to bring a piece of firewood to contribute to the fire. How totally awesome was that to read about what the kids needed to “bring on our field trip” list?! And yet, my older son has found the subjects to be much easier than in the States and looks forward to a greater challenge next year. The hardest thing for both of them: learning Norwegian. They are braver than I will ever be and I admire them every day as they walk out the door to immerse themselves in Norwegian life.
• Oslo is not a clean city and I have found trash littering the fields of my son’s fotball team LOTS. No one wants to pick it up, because they expect that “someone” else will do it. Oil wealth has shaped this attitude for sure.
• Hospitality? Welcome? The place where we have found we are most welcomed and accepted is where there is diversity and the international community. People who have lived elsewhere, including Norwegians who have lived abroad, are the most accepting and kind people we’ve met. Our family makes a point to invite people over to our home and sometimes they are completely floored when we do! We make it a priority because we know what it is like to be a stranger and experience hospitality and welcome in a new place. Food is a place of connection.I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE hearing the stories I’ve heard over the last year. My life is an on-going social studies course I didn’t have to pay for. People are fascinating.
• I believe that God is alive and well in this atheistic AND secular society that supports the “beliefs” of all. In the midst of everyone trying to find their way in the world, I have had more interesting and deep conversations than I have ever had in my life. Maybe this is because I am a person of faith and a pastor (even though I am not currently serving a congregation), which both disturbs and interests people.
• Traditions are important to Norwegians, even if they don’t know why they do them anymore. It gives definition to this homogenous society, but makes it nearly impossible for integration from anyone who comes from another culture. The recent wave of immigrants is testing the waters and changing the landscape. I thank God for them.
• I have more observations than I have room for, so stay tuned for a “to be continued”.

This year of “firsts” has been completed and now, we are onto the second. Adventure continues to await us each day and now when I step onto Vestheimgata, I know where I’m going. The “newness” has worn off, but that’s okay because it is a sign that this is now home. Thanks be to God!

4 Jewish Atheists + 4 Lutherans= Unexpected Friendship

Matzo Ball Soup–Passover 2016

When we moved to Norway last June, we were told we would be getting new neighbors across the hall in August. They would be a family from the US, moving here for just ten months, and had two girls around the same ages as our boys. My husband Joel and I looked at each other and said, “Well, this could be really good or really NOT good. I guess we’ll just have to see.”On a cool late summer Saturday, we heard movement outside our door which alerted us that our neighbors were now moving into the other flat. After secretly peeking through the eye hole of the Rova-Hegener apartment, I looked at Joel and said, “I think we should go meet them.” Five steps later, we knocked, wondering what these new people would be like on the other side of the wall.

 

The door opened and in front of us stood Edi and Marla, and their two daughters, Alicia and Eve, who were tucked neatly behind them and poking their faces out. In a thick Spanish accent, which seriously sounded like Ricky Ricardo from I Love Lucy, Edi said, “It’s nice to meet you.” We exchanged niceties and introduced our children to each other. Their girls looked the opposite of our blonde hair, blue-eyed boys; they had long dark hair and deep brown eyes. Searching for a commonality, besides being from the US, we learned very quickly that we were living across the hall from readers, who brought many books with them. Books are also our friends and we need them when we move somewhere far away as they are a source of familiarity and comfort. Books were swapped and our friendship began.

We learned that their family was from Chicago, Illinois and they came to Norway, as Marla was a Fulbright Scholar, here to research and study patient and doctor relationships. The research done over the course of the ten months would add to her wealth of knowledge, experience, and work, as a Ph.D. in Public Health. Edi has a Ph.D. in Political Science, and was taking a year leave-of-absence from teaching to care for the girls, but he would also spend time writing. Edi, of Polish Jewish ancestry, grew up in Costa Rica, thus, the lovely thick Spanish accent. He also speaks Hebrew, Portuguese, and of course, English. Marla, also Jewish, grew up in Ohio. We learned that she and Edi met in Israel. The girls, who are fluent in English and Spanish, would also learn Norwegian very soon, along with our two boys.

“If you need anything, just let us know.” I said, as we walked back five strides to the place we called home. I turned to Joel and said, “They seem nice and super interesting. Should be quite an experience to have them as neighbors!” Little did I know what the future of our relationship would hold and through time, how dear they would become to our hearts.

Secretly, I’ve always dreamed of being friends with someone who is Jewish. Really. And, not only Jewish, but who actually practices the Jewish faith, rituals, and traditions. I felt a little giddy when I learned I was living next to four people who were Jewish and actually attended their synagogue ON A REGULAR BASIS in the US. It is hard enough to find other Christians who attend church ON A REGULAR BASIS. Yes!

You see, I’ve been a life-long Lutheran, whose world has been full of other Lutherans. I have a lot of friends who are of Scandinavian heritage and proud of it. These are people who tell stories about Ole and Lena, eat lutefisk and Swedish meatballs on a fairly regular basis, might take a sauna at least one day a week, and can sing “A Mighty Fortress is Our God” in four-part harmony. This is the world I grew up in. But in all my life,  I have never, ever had a Jewish friend. I thought we struck the jackpot of religious diversity and would get to see it up close, if we were lucky enough. (And we were.)

In the beginning, I was a little bit terrified of what they would think of us and that is because I’m always a little bit terrified to tell people that Joel and I are Lutheran pastors. The typical response when we tell people we are pastors is, they either, a) feel guilty or apologize for not being at church or swearing around us or b) look at us with wonder and say things like, “Really? Wow.” or c) say nothing but, “Oh.”.

To our surprise, once they heard what we were, they responded with, “One of Alicia’s best friends in Chicago is the daughter of a Lutheran pastor.”  I guess there was a sigh of relief on our parts, that they didn’t see us as these strange green aliens next door.

Our older children traveled from their Norwegian language school on the other side of Oslo and back to our apartment together every morning and every afternoon for five months. I wasn’t so sure what an 11 year old boy would think about hanging out with an 11 year old girl, but the time allowed them to have deep intellectual conversations about books they had read and found themselves bonding over missing the communities in the US Midwest  they had left. Both of them had to move to this place called Norway because their parents dragged them here unwillingly. These two “tweeners” worked hard to learn Norwegian, listened to each other, processed their experience, and shared conversations that gave them a bit of grounding in their new home and community.

Our youngest kids were walked to school everyday by their dads. 8:05 a.m. was the departure time. Sometimes Eve would knock on our door and other times Johan would knock on theirs. If Johan knocked on their door, we could see Eve sitting on the floor,  trying to put her boots on, refusing to wear socks (regardless of how cold it was out), and listened to her father say, “Come on, Eve. Hurry up!” Joel and Edi walked Johan and Eve to school EVERY SINGLE DAY this year. Edi and Joel would spend their moments to school listening to Eve and Johan, reflect on life and ask good and thoughtful questions about anything and everything they noticed. On the way back home, Edi and Joel would have man-bonding time for just a few minutes, when Joel wasn’t a pastor, but a friend.They talked about history, movies, religion, culture, music, children, and life. They commiserated and laughed about the challenges of parenting and raising children today in this new country of Norway.

I was fascinated by Marla, one of my first female friends here in Norway. Within a couple of weeks after they arrived, the doorbell rang. I was finishing up some dishes, but as I ran to answer the door, noticed how much “stuff” we had laying about everywhere in our apartment. I thought, “Oh shit. Nothing is cleaned up and here our neighbors are going to see what we really live like.” I feared they would see our space and home for what it really was: imperfect. Good grief, it was hard for me to have someone see what my house REALLY looks like on a daily basis.You see, books were strewn all over the floor, laundry was hanging on the drying rack, legos could be stepped on, food was on the table, with crumbs everywhere and there was a glass with leftover milk that was waiting to be cleared. Uff. Da.

I greeted Marla and tried to keep the door open, but was trying to figure out how to not have her come into the apartment all the way. But that was just plain rude, so I said, “Come on in and sit down. I am SO sorry that it looks like this. Please come in. Oh, let me move that pile of books so you can sit down on the sofa.” Marla, being the direct and scholastic person she is, said, “Stop apologizing. I’m not judging you for what your house looks like. So, you are just going to have to get over it. Besides, we’ll be coming over and seeing you and you can’t apologize every time we come.”

Suddenly, I realized it was okay and that was freeing.

Over the course of the year, we learned to just “be” with our neighbors. The best thing about being neighbors with Edi and Marla was that they let us be us and we let them be them. We walked carefully around each other’s core values and asked questions when we wondered about why they did what they did. We played family games and our kids went to movies and we had deep conversations that included debate. We got hugs from the girls and non-Norwegian “hellos” as we greeted one another on the streets. We gathered around the table to break bread on Shabbat and ate Edi’s homemade tortillas. We passed desserts, food, sewing needles, an iron, butter, and olive oil across the hall and celebrated birthdays, Thanksgiving, and Passover. We made kransekake (Norwegian wedding cake) and decorated them with Israeli, US, Norwegian,  rainbow, and unicorn flags. We dyed Easter eggs and talked about why we do it. We studied and learned about each other and found, we had much more in common than we imagined.

Even when we learned they were atheist and practiced the rituals and traditions because they needed to keep their cultural and ethnic heritage, we asked questions, listened, and debated. As a Christian, I have times of doubt and truth be told, I hope that if Edi and Marla are open, they might have glimpses of faith in some small way. I have no doubt that God works in and amongst people and situations that are far beyond my understanding.  No matter what religion, non-religion, background, life circumstance, gender, or whatever, we are all in this thing we call “life” together. Somehow, we are all trying to figure it out, making mistakes, hopefully learning along the way, and trying to make this crazy world we live in a little bit better. Marla, Edi, Alicia, and Eve have been a source of light and blessing my life and our family’s life in ways they’ll never know. Because of them, we are different and will not ever be the same again.

I went running today and found myself getting choked up at the thought of their leaving Norway. This coming Sunday, they are moving out of the apartment and going back to Chicago. This means no more hugs from my adopted daughters, no more Passover meals, no more walks to school, game nights, or just stopping over to say hi. The floor will be quieter and less filled with the life across the hall as we now know it.

God must have known how much we needed Jewish Atheist neighbors. Boy, am I grateful.

Joel and I will both tell you ten months later…… the neighbors across the hall, well………. they turned out to be very, very good.

 

9 months and 8 days in Oslo

The sun is bright today and it marks my 9 month and eight day anniversary of moving to Norway. It’s a bit like a pregnancy that’s gone past it’s due date.

Nine months and eight days. Uff da.

Similarly to a pregnancy, I can tell you that 9 months and 8 days ago, I would have never imagined I’ve come so far, experienced so many things, and met so many people.

At the end of 9 months of pregnancy and then birth, a mother finally sees the new little one, scrunched up, wet, and wiggly. At the birth of my oldest son, I remember feeling terrified of this bundle of joy  in front of me. All I could think was, “Oh no. I don’t know what to do with him. Who is he?” He stared up at me with these deep blue eyes and I was sure he could see right through. Ever since that day, I think we’ve both been trying to figure each other out.

When we moved to Norway, we were given this little bundle of joy; an opportunity to live in Scandinavia. Just like a newborn infant, it took lots of energy. It took lots of energy to listen, to navigate, to learn enough Norwegian to get by, to buy groceries, to walk out the door and face the world that, just by a glance and could see through me and would know  I was not one of them.

Now, after living in Norway for 9 months and 8 days, Oslo and I are still trying to figure each other out, but I am less terrified. The grocery store check-out girls know me. I’ve figured out what kinds of foods are what. My children have mastered the public transportation system. Our church is starting to feel like home. I have friends who don’t go to church and some of them are even atheists. I can read a lot in Norwegian and rejoice when I hear a word I’ve just added to my vocabulary. My children feel happy to go to school, where they speak Norwegian all day long with their new friends. My husband and I have explored many cafes and hiked hills near and far.

As we enter the season of spring and the light comes back, here are nine observations about my new life here in Oslo, Norway:

1. It takes a long time to feel at home in a foreign country. When you move your children, even if they are willing, might be pissed at you, especially when learning a new language.
2. Diversity is amazing and often is a great strength, but comes with challenges as well.
3. It’s nice to just go to worship at church and not be a pastor for awhile. Singing hymns and participating in services can fill one’s heart and soul for a long time.
4. Norwegians are some of the most lovely people on earth, but are way too addicted to technology and their phones.
5. It is nearly impossible to have a nice leisurely walk at Sognsvann on a weekend afternoon without getting lapped four times by Norwegian athletes. Norwegians do not work out for fun and are hard core at most everything they do.
6. Learning a foreign language takes time and lots of practice. And you have to be vulnerable, which isn’t particularly one of my strong suits.
7. I admire my children more than ever. They are the brave ones and I hope and pray I haven’t scarred them for life.
8. Religious diversity is one of the best things I’ve ever encountered and I am so grateful for those who have taken the time to dialogue about this life journey  we are on together.
9. Brown cheese is my favorite, favorite, favorite Norwegian food and always will be.

–Emily Gratia