An Easter To Remember

Yes, it was COOOOLD.... Fortunately, our cottage is equipped with both heated floors and a highly efficient wood burning stove. Once we'd crawled out of bed and put on a fire, we were toasty warm in no time.

And truthfully, the cold was a blessing in disguise, because it meant a stop to the raging snowstorm that had kept us cooped up inside for most of the previous day, while the cottage slowly disappeared in the masses of snow coming down from the heavens:

Of course, a little snow didn't stop the kids from having a blast:







But the adults got noticeably more active once the sun peaked out and heated things. Fabulously long skiing trips ensued, with and without children:



We also managed some outdoor lunches, barbecuing hotdogs and sandwiches, and even a bit of suntanning. That's viking blood for ya!



The kids, meanwhile, continued their frolicking with slides down the mountain side:





And the cottage roof:



However, Easter in Scandinavia is really all about food and aquavit (however did you know, Rima?), and even far away from civilization in the mountains we enjoyed excellent meals:



Thus, despite vigorous skiing, I am certain not an ounce of weight was shed. Which may have been a problem had spring been around the corner, but with the forecast calling for snow, snow, and more snow, I'm not worrying just yet.

Though I am considering putting in a call to Al Gore. He may need to revise his inconvenient truth a little bit, as the Norwegian weather gods clearly aren't playing on his team...

(I usually have to crane my neck and look waaaaay up to read this sign).

Waning Winter?

Saturday morning at the cottage:



(US translation: -11.2°F outdoors and 53.6°F indoors).

Happy Easter Everyone!

I'll be back to regale (bore?) you with one final snowfilled cottage trip when we return on Sunday.

Until then, may your Easter be filled with chocolate.

Busy Hearts

It's been a busy few days...too busy to even blog, which has not happened since I was in Cyprus back in October and out of Internet-range.



We got back from the cottage on Tuesday, where we'd had an awesome time skiing, jumping, making bonfires in the snow, and generally enjoying ourselves.



We spent Tuesday afternoon and evening back at the house, just the four of us. Mike and I threw ourselves over the piles of work that were waiting for us, and the boys had a joyous reunion with their beloved computers and play station. Four days of nonstop outdoor fun in the Norwegian mountains give boys horrendous electronics-withdrawal, apparently.

Wednesday was another day of frantic working for Mike and I. Over the past three weeks, I have translated some 50,000 words, which is a crazy amount of words. I am starting to dream of CT machines, but have not yet gotten to the point where I'm worried that our rushed translation will cause permanent injury to some unsuspecting patient. I'm sure that'll come by the end of this nasty project, when we'll have reached some 150,000 words.

Wednesday night we had my sister and her family over for dinner. We made Chinese food, which, although not as good as the authentic stuff, beat the hot dogs we'd been surviving on for the last few days.

Since it had been a full 24 hours (gasp!) since my boys had last seen their cousins, they convinced us that my nephews needed to spend the night on Wednesday. Not that it took a whole lot of convincing. The boys are on their winter break, and, frankly, it is easier to have the four boys together, than my two alone.

Thursday was spent pretty much like Wednesday, with us working and the boys playing in the house, except for the hour or two when they were banished outdoors to enjoy the spring-like warm weather we've been enjoying lately. We even put them to work clearing the snow from the walkway, which was dangerously icy to walk on:



Somehow, the boys managed to finagle another sleepover through Friday, which was just as well, because yesterday was my parents' 39th wedding anniversary.

39 years of wedded bliss is not usually celebrated in grand style, but seeing as we are here this year - and likely won't be in Norway at this time next year - we jumped the gun a bit on the big 4-0 years of marriage for my parents.

The grandchildren even got involved by making awesome congratulary cards to their grandparents. They wrote cute little messages and drew balloons and coloured fairly well within the lines. No small feat for boys who are not artistically predisposed or interested. They were very proud when we hung the cards up on the wall by the dining room table.



And imagine my surprise, people, when I realized that B boy knows how to draw hearts. Hearts! This is my fit-for-fight warrior child, who sleeps with his Lord of the Rings sword and dreams of becoming a Jedi Knight. The same child who has been diagnosed with severe fine motor skill issues and refuses to write more than 10 words at a time. But if you're in need of a heart - here's your man:



Speaking of artistic skills, I baked a heart-shaped cake of which I was extremely proud until Mike burst out laughing at my attempt to create the number 9 on the cake with sugar, and kicked me off decoration duty and onto washroom clean-up duty while he took it upon himself to decorate the cake. The nerve!

I think I even heard him mutter something about "I see where Benjamin gets it from" under his breath. Clearly he was unaware of Benjamin's heart drawing ability, because this cake rocked:



The night was a huge success. My mother cried when she saw the boys' cards, the food was awesome, the cake was a big hit and the boys...well, they played and played and played some more.

And despite having been together for 5 out of the last 6 days, they were still upset when they had to say goodbye to each other last night (I'm starting to really worry about how they'll cope when we pack up and return to Canada).

Today has been yet another day of work for us. The boys have done very little but play electronics and card games, and Benjamin only got out of his PJs in the late afternoon, as we prepared to go visit my parents for a quick dinner of leftovers from last night.

Tomorrow is looking like another sunny and warm day, so Mike and I have promised ourselves to take a break from the overload of work and drag the boys out into the fresh air for a nice, long walk. Something tells me they won't be thrilled...

Have a lovely Sunday, everyone!

Wordless Wednesday

Outdoor Fun

Indoor Yum

Winter Holidays...

...and we're off!



We'll be back in Internet-range on Tuesday. Just in time to select the lucky winner of a lovely box of to-die-for Norwegian chocolate. See the post below and add your comment, too!

Happy Weekend!

Winter Weekend

Note to self: Next time you decide to drive to the mountains in a snowstorm, bring a shovel!

Here's what we found as we arrived at the cottage on Friday afternoon:

Yep, instead of a cottage, we found a roof.

This is Mike bravely trying to gain access to the missing cottage, and its much coveted snow shovel:

(I know it looks as if he's able to just walk on top of the snow, but seconds after I took this picture, he fell through...there's nothing like a meter of fresh snow to make you want to lose a kilo or 20!)

We finally managed to dig out way into the cottage, where we lit a cozy fire and fixed a quick pizza dinner. Then, because we are crazy, we headed out into the snowfest again:


Headlights in the dark are a brilliant idea, especially when you've lost your legs:

We spent the next couple of days skiing. Seeing as B boy is still a novice cross country skier, Christopher had no choice but to keep Mike company on the 10k ski circuit on Saturday. Benjamin and I went for a shorter stint on our own.

(Please...I know! He puts the hat on himself...)

On Sunday, I was raring to go for a longer stretch, and Christopher kindly volunteered yet again, while Benjamin and Mike went on their own. I, of course, picked the best day, as we had gloriously sunny weather.

All in all, Christopher probably covered 23-24 km this weekend; not bad for an 11 year old without a whole lot of cross country skiing practice.

As far as B boy is concerned, he needs a bit more practice, but we are hoping he'll do the 10k before Easter. That's our goal, not his.

This is his goal:


And who can blame him?

Mountain Forecast: Snow and Sun

Skies are on the roof rack, the bags are in the trunk. We'll pick up groceries on the way. All there's left to do now is wait for the boys to come home from school.

Life is good.

Happy Weekend!

Christmas - Part Trois

Noone can ever say that we did not celebrate Christmas the year we spent in Norway -at this point I'm feeling a bit Christmassed out!

Mid-morning following our late-night karaoke session, two parents, two grandparents, four boys, four DS consoles with various new games, six pairs of skis, six bum trays, seemingly endless pairs of mitts, gloves, snow pants and jackets were packed into two cars, and away we went to Cottage-land. Also known as Winter Wonderland.

Our cottage is situated in the mountains above the beautiful town of Ål, and is very popular for cross country skiing. Right outside our door are kilometers and kilometers of machine groomed trails, some lit, some not. There is also a downhill centre across the valley, and Norway's largest tobagganing hill is only a short drive away.

Arriving after sunset, we quickly threw together a dinner of leftover food from the day before the boys got into their outerwear, strapped on the cross country skis and went outside to test out the brand new head lights they'd received for Christmas.



Looks like they worked out pretty well!

The very next day, we woke up to very mild weather, and a touch of rain that quickly turned into snow. While my mother and I drove down the mountain for groceries, the boys played in the snow. My dad will tell you that he had no help whatsoever building his snowman, as the boys were far too busy making snow tunnels and having snowball fights.



Later that afternoon, Christopher, Mathias and I ventured out for what I thought was going to be a short skiing trip around the cottage. As it turns out, the boys had a 10k trek in mind. I finally managed to convince them, some 2-3 km in, that it was going to get pitch black soon, and we'd have to wait until the following day to venture any further away. As we were returning to the cottage, Mathias and I had a miscommunication in advance of skiing down a large hill, with the end result that I had to throw myself into the snow to avoid crashing into and possibly mortally wounding my little nephew with my Christmas-stuffed self.

This is me following my not-so-fluffy-and-soft encounter with the snow:



A bruised and swollen eye is the hot look for New Year's, dontcha know?

We did do the 10k trip the very next day, and it was an awesome outing - despite wearing sun glasses on a cloudy day to not scare off other skiers with my blooming eye.



That night, those heavy clouds became an increasingly intense snow storm, which we took full advantage of:





And here's what we woke up to this morning:



Thanks to the wonders of heavy duty snow removal services, we were able to pack our boys and their gear into our little car, wave goodbye to my nephews and parents who were staying on at the cottage, and make our way back home.

Which is where we are currently - and not without a touch of panic - cooking dinner for hungry boys, while doing laundry and packing in preparation for our trip to Manchester, England first thing tomorrow. That is, cooking, doing laundry, packing, and...ahem...blogging. Because no matter how busy I get, there always seems to be time for blogging.

Winter Wonderland

My parents built their cottage almost 11 years ago, pretty much right after I moved to Canada. Despite the fact that they spent 25 years of marriage talking about getting a cottage, only to build one the second I left the country, I carry no grudge and have been a regular visitor. I am not one to let such insignificant issues such as...eh..5000 km stand in the way.

My visits have been limited to the summer and fall, when the boys' school schedules allow for a trip across the Atlantic. The "hytte" is the perfect place to escape from the heat of a June or July day. The sun barely dips down behind the mountains before it rises again, which may make it hard to sleep, but also promotes fun and games outdoors at all hours of the day - and night.

A September outing is equally thrilling with its crisp air and spectacular glimpses of Mother Nature's full colour palette. A final gala, if you will, before the trees and bushes, the grasses and flowers go to sleep for the winter. Even the sheep seem to sense that they are grazing on borrowed time, and are much braver in their attempts to check out your picnic lunch. Soon they will be rounded up and brought down to the farm.

Until now, these have been my experiences at the cottage, and I've always thought that I was seeing the mountains at their best. I didn't miss not going in the wintertime or even the spring. But today, I'm no longer sure, because this weekend was my first taste of what winter is like at the cottage. And from what I can tell - it tops both summer and fall.

I noticed a difference from the moment we started the 3 hour drive up on Friday afternoon, when a brand new blanket of snow gave the landscape a scrubbed, just cleaned appearance, lined with snow-covered fern trees glistened as if decorated for Christmas. The rivers and lakes had the ice-blue colour of glaciers, with the occasional sparkle of newly-formed ice crystals.

As darkness crept in, the snow lit up our surroundings, like nature's own sunshine. It was pure and untouched, without footsteps and almost void of tire tracks, and none of that ugly black yuck that piles up on the side of the road after too many cars, or too much salting. I imagined we were the only people in a winter wonderland.

My parents were already at the cottage, greeting us with lit lanterns by the doorstep, a roaring fire, and the delicious smell of fresh waffles. Yum. (I have informed my parents that we are now forever spoiled and can never go back to the cottage without someone arriving first to prep and get everything ready. Once you've tried First Class, you can never go back).

The temperature outside was a cool but not ridiculous -5 degrees C. Our bellies full of waffles and hot tea, we bundled up and headed outside. Grabbing a couple of "rumpebrett" (literal translation - "bum trays") on the way, we headed out into the darkness, to hit the tobogganing hill for an hour or two.

It was magical! The sky was clear and the stars overhead seemed so close, I felt like I could reach out and steal one. The largest full moon I have ever seen lit up the horizon like a miniature sun. From our vantage point, there were no electrical lights anywhere, only the gentle light cast by the lanterns outside our cottage in the distance. The soft snowy carpet muffled all noise, except the occasional squeals of delight as we all slid down the hill and ran up again. And again, and again.





After a delicious dinner, we soon tucked a couple of tired boys into bed, still with rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes. It didn't take long before I followed suit. All that fresh air wears you out!

The next day began with an incredible sunrise. Pictures do not do it justice, but here's our best attempt:



Outside was a chilly -12 degrees C when we woke up, but the cottage was nice and toasty with a cosy fire (OK, and the heated floors, too. We are not exactly roughing it). The temperature began to rise as the sky filled with heavy clouds, and though the snow fell slowly at first, majestically and silently, it wasn't long before our cars were covered. It wasn't until the snow began to come down fast and furious that we realized there was only one thing to do:

Bundle, bundle, bundle. Hats, gloves, mitts, scarves, snow pants, coats, extra socks and boots. Phew!

Hot and sweaty, we finally made it out to a winter scape overflowing with opportunities for snowball fights, angel making and general mayhem:







When we were thoroughly soaked and content to take a break from all the goofing around in the snow, Mormor and the boys baked gingerbread cookies and decorated the cottage for Christmas. The rest of us watched skiing on TV, while sipping lovely hot mulled wine with almonds and raisins.

Sunday morning, our final day at the cottage, Mike decided there was just enough snow for the boys to try out their new downhill skis for the first time. He even built a small jump for Christopher. The incline wasn't steep enough to keep the boys' attention for long, which was probably not a bad thing, considering poor Mike had to pull B boy back up the hill each time. Hopefully we'll get an opportunity to try the skis out at a real hill next weekend.




Still, it was a fantastic winter weekend. What I loved most about it was that the focus was on family and playing. And I hope it was only the first of many such weekends to come this year.

Saturday Scramble

Saturday morning we were finally able to hike up Lauvdalsbrea, one of the most unusual peaks around our cottage. We'd been hoping to do it for years, but I am glad we waited. Christopher and my nephew Joakim were finally old enough to join us, and that made our trip so much more enjoyable.

The weather was pretty good on Saturday. The temperatures hovered around freezing when we got up, but rose to a balmy 5 degrees by the time we set off. The cloud cover looked to be high enough not to be a concern, although lower clouds did seem to blow in and out at a rapid pace.

Lauvdalsbrea is the peak to the far left

We had to drive a bit to get to the foot of the mountain, and as we got out of the car, we realized just how windy the morning was. The cottage is somewhat sheltered from the elements, but out in the open the wind gusts were surprisingly strong.

Christopher, Joakim, Mike and I

My favourite picture of the day is the one below of Christopher and Joakim taking a break on the way up. I love their rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes. In the background you can see towards Hemsedal, a famous ski resort in Norway. This picture gives a good impression of just how cool the day was, and how barren and harsh the landscape is in the Norwegian mountains. And yes, the white stuff is snow.



We'd been taken aback by the windy conditions at the foot of the mountain, but were even more surprised by the gusts at the top. Here's my dad braving the elements, as the rest of us enjoyed our hot chocolate while taking shelter behind one of the cairns built to show the way.



Upon descending, we picked a slightly different route, and it turned out to be a fair bit rockier. I am not ashamed to admit I was down on all four occasionally, in order not to slip on the wet and icy rocks and break a limb.

Mike and Joakim on one of the larger rocks

Here I am in all my elegance...



...and can I just say it seemed a lot harder at the time than this picture indicates!

There is something innately serene and calming about walking in the mountains. I have to be vigilant and concentrate at all times, to not put a foot wrong and slip and possibly hurt myself. By focusing 100% on the present, I forget about those pesky little problems that often seem to be nagging at the back of my mind.

I look around at the mountains and marvel that they've been there for centuries, and will be there for centuries to come. My issues and anxieties become insignificant and melt away in the presence of such stoic tranquility. It is such a peaceful experience, with the added bonus of giving my body a bit of a workout.

Returning from the hike, I felt like I'd used my body and mind the way they were meant to be used. Not a bad way to spend a Saturday morning.