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).

Is Singularity Overrated?

Norway is extremely homogenous, with fewer than 5% of Norwegian citizens having a non-Germanic ethnic background. For us, coming from 10+ years in Canada, of which the last 6 were spent in the Toronto area - home of multiculturalism - it's been interesting to once again experience such homogeneity up close.

I knew, coming in, that this would be a transition, but it still amuses me just how similar people are here.

By similar...

...I don't just mean physically - although the vast majority of our community is white and fair. Benjamin's class has two students who are of a visibly different ethnicity (they are both from India), but Christopher's class does not have a single child whom I would suspect originally hailed from another country.

...or how we all dress our kids the same - although on any given day, one of my children will bring home a friend wearing the exact same sweater, shoes, gloves or bag. Apparently everyone in Norway shops for their boys at H&M.

...or how we all drive the same (silver) car, even though I on more than one occasion have gotten mad at the car key for refusing to open someone else's Golf.

What really makes me laugh is how we all do the same thing for the holidays. Such as the Easter holidays, where every man, woman and child head to the mountains for one last ski fest before spring can be welcomed with open arms.

The entire country shuts down. Try to schedule a work meeting with a Norwegian colleague during Easter. It's not going to happen. A broken down furnace? You're cold out of luck.

Nothing gets done in Norway during Easter, because there's no one around to do it. Walk into downtown Oslo, and it's like being in a ghost town.

There's no point in fighting it.

So go on, join the traffic on the single-lane highways heading up into the mountains for some sunny skiing in shorts. That's where the rest of Norway will be. And tomorrow afternoon, that's where we're planning to go, too.

Because in Norway, apparently, we're like everyone else.

France + Lost + Blogger = Severe Headache

Warning: If you are not in the mood for a rambling post that's all over the place, please come back and visit me another time, when I'll most likely be operating on more than 3 hours of sleep. Thank you.

There I was, trying to multitask by uploading pictures of our skiing holiday while catching up on the latest episode of Lost...only to be thwarted by Blogger's blatant refusal to accept my favourite holiday shots.

Sigh.

Blame Blogger if you like, but this was the weakest episode of Lost yet this year. Too many things just didn't add up - like why Penny's father would want to 'exploit' the island? Or why Dan and Charlotte wouldn't just tell the Losties that they were going to neutralize the gas, rather than knocking Kate unconscious and almost killing Juliette? And honestly, how come everyone's suddenly letting Locke call all the shots, including releasing Ben from capture?

Since both Lost and Blogger have let me down in my state of severe grogginess (arriving back home at 4 am will do that to you), I take comfort in knowing that as soon as my head hits the pillow tonight, I will be dreaming of this:



Don't I look like I know what I'm doing? With Mont Blanc in the background, to boot.

Despite my predictions to the contrary, we had amazing weather throughout our holiday. Although it was frequently overcast in the mornings, by the afternoon, the sun would peek out and warm up cold faces to the point that we are all sporting sunburns on noses and cheeks.

Upon our arrival last Saturday, however, I really did wonder if we'd be hiking instead of skiing. There was no snow anywhere around the airport or along the highway as we drove towards the resort. It was only as we turned up the mountain, the white stuff revealed itself. The effects of the very mild European winter this year were evident, as only the mountain tops were covered in snow:



Our boys had the best holiday! Christopher was already a competent skier, but B boy made enormous strides this week, and officially made moi the slowest skier in the family. I knew that day was coming, but I thought I had a year or so to get used to the idea. Sadly, no. Benjamin now bombs down the runs like nobody's business, leaving me in the wake of his snow spray.



Like his dad and brother before him, he doesn't read signs very well:



Though we were on the slopes for 6-7 hours a day, we didn't just ski. We did a bit of this:



And a bit of that:



A couple of evenings, the ski school that the boys attended put on events, including a lantern ski for the kids. Behold B boy with his 'lantern':



So, another great adventure under our belts in this year of grand exploration. The boys were sad to have to say goodbye to their auntie, uncle and grandparents, but we are looking forward to seeing them in the UK at the end of next month.

French Follies

In our continuing mission to make Benjamin motion sick as frequently as possible this year, we are jetting off to La Plagne in France tomorrow. Thus, we're in the midst of a packing frenzy, snowpants, jackets, hats and gloves flying this way and that, as I try to guess just how many pairs of mitts a boy can possibly soak in a single day.

Mike is downstairs stuffing the ski bags with skis, poles, helmets, boots and other goodies.

This will be my first ever real downhill ski holiday, and I am excited but also somewhat apprehensive. I mean - these are serious hills, not the little baby hills we've skied in Ontario. I've asked Mike to doublecheck our insurance, just in case I need a helicopter to take me down from the mountain.

The fear of bodily harm aside - doesn't it all look wonderful?



Of course, my concerns may be for naught, and our packing efforts may all be in vain...since the forecast for La Plagne calls for 12 degrees Celsius next week. But that's OK, I'm better at hiking than skiing anyway:



The boys are pretty excited to have yet another week of holidays, but apart from that, they are remarkably unimpressed by the whole thing. Me thinks these children have been spoiled by one too many travels lately!

Happy Weekend everyone!

One Way Ticket...

In four weeks' time, we are off on a skiing holiday to La Plagne in the French Alps.

I know, I know...I lead a charmed life of sabbatical decadence. I do.

But today I'm not in the mood to appreciate. And if you read on, perhaps you'll see why:

La Plagne is 2 hours by car from the nearest airport of Chambery. Considering Benjamin's rather severe motion sickness, a 2 hour drive on small, mountainous roads is not perfect (perfect would be ski-in/ski-out privileges from our house here in Norway). But it beats a 3-4 hour car ride, which was our alternative.

In addition, the airport of Chambery offers a direct flight to/from Oslo, Norway. Again, better than many of our other options, which require stopovers in Copenhagen, Frankfurt, Paris or even London.

Whenever we book flights, our primary concern is cutting down on travel time. Benjamin tolerates a couple of hours reasonably well, but he seems to hit a wall at the 2 hour mark, and after that things go downhill quickly. As in lots and lots of being sick. It's messy, stressful and, most of all, terribly unpleasant for him.

That's why we thought La Plagne was a good choice for skiing. Our flight from Oslo leaves at 8:30 am, and we get into Chambery three hours later. Two hours on the road, and we might even make it to the hotel for lunch. Benjamin has the afternoon to recover before hitting the slopes the next day. We have time to buy our lift tickets, book ski lessons/ski school, and even enjoy a nice dinner. French food. Yum.

So imagine my mood when, two months ago, an email dumps into my inbox, with big, bold, ominous letters:

"Time Change to your Flight"

A quick glance through the "We are sorry, blah, blah, blah...inconvenience...yeah, yeah, yeah...change to departure time."

Scroll further down...to see that they have pushed our departure time back by 10 hours! What?? We are now leaving Oslo at 6:30 pm. Look, I can handle an hour or two, but 10 hours is an entire day lost!

I immediately went onto their website, and I searched through other airlines' websites for hours. Only to confirm what I already knew. This is the only airline that offers a direct connection to Chambery from Oslo, and this is their only depature a week. There's no alternative, no choice. Not unless we are willing to do stopovers.

So we changed everything. Booked another car to pick us up in C'hambery. There'll be no getting in mid-day now, we'll be lucky to get in the right side of midnight. This sucks big time. The kids will be totally groggy and cranky the next morning, when the ski school starts.

But what sucks even more is that the return flight has also been pushed back 10 hours. We are now leaving Chambery at close to 10 pm.

Given how hotels usually ask you to clear out of your room before noon, we will have the entire day to do nothing. Sure we can, and probably will, ski. Because who doesn't love changing out of your wet and yucky ski clothes in the public bathroom off the lobby in a cramped ski hotel? With kids? Fun times!

At the end of that fun day, we'll arrive in Oslo at 30 minutes past midnight. And you know the privilege of clearing snow off a car that's been parked in the outdoor parking lot for a week? Well, imagine doing it at 1 am with two children in tow?

That's almost as great as having to drive another 1.5 hours home afterwards. Woo-hoo!

But since we are still looking at 5 hours of travel time - just at nasty, nasty hours - there's no point in changing anything. And we may even luck out and the boys will sleep on the flight home. Benjamin can't get sick when he's sleeping, so who knows? A silver lining?

So these last few weeks I've been trying to get into the mood again. Working my way back to looking forward to this trip. It's going to cost us a fortune, and I want to enjoy it.

Until I saw this in my inbox last week:

"Flightnumber Change"

It actually took me a few minutes to work up the courage to open it, and when I did, at first I couldn't see any changes:

1730 from OSL to CMF 2115
2155 from CMF to OSL 0135

But then it dawned on me. They added another hour to the flying time. We are now leaving Oslo an hour earlier, but still arriving at the same time.

Did France move without telling me?

I threw myself on phone to customer service.

[Wait, wait, wait.]

Finally, a human voice. "Ma'am, you are travelling during peak hours of the day, when the air space is full, so we've essentially had to add extra time to just circle."

Hmm...I really don't understand that little dinky Chambery airport can be that busy. Heck, I couldn't even find another flight in. And Oslo Airport is not busy at 1:30 am, I can promise you that. But she insisted.

Fine! Maybe she can sit next to Benjamin as we circle the airport for the 57th time.

The bottom line is that we've now added another hour onto our travel time. Two more vomits, by my count. Not to mention the fact that we'll be arriving back in Oslo at 1:30 am, and at our house no earlier than 4 am. So there's Sunday gone, too.

Back to getting into the mood. It's going to be fun. Fun. FUN! I.Am.Going.To.Love.It. Forget about the travel time. Who cares?

[Phone rings this morning at 9 am]

...an hour has been added to the flight time to allow for a stopover in Gothenburg, Sweden. We are sorry.

I.Hate.Air.Travel.

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!

Ice Day

Dear Principal Larsen,

As you know, last week's rain melted much of the snow around the school playground.




However, freezing temperatures over the weekend have covered the ground with a slippery sheet of solid ice. Since the school is in a small forest, with nary a flat surface in sight, this makes for extremely treacherous passage.

Benjamin practicing the bum walk

While we realize you have no control over the changing weather patterns, we feared broken bones had our boys (and, in particular, accident-in-waiting B boy) attended school today.

This explains why they were not present at attendance call this morning, and we hope you understand that we only acted with the best interests of our children in mind.

We also want to assure you that despite missing school, the boys did work very, very hard today.

In fact, they are absolutely wiped after a long day in our improvised classroom...



...where we covered science:

What goes up....



must come down:



...math:

How long does it take a 7 year old to complete a slalom run? What about an 11 year old?




...a vision test:

Who can spot the numbers on the chair lift?



...and even geography:

Name that town:



Our only regret is that we ran out of time before we could get to the ethics and morals class. We will be covering that subject later (just as soon as the boys have forgotten the meaning of the word truancy, which they picked up during our language class).

Thank you for your understanding and cooperation.

Sincerely,

The Responsible Parents of Christopher and Benjamin

Pictures? You Want Pictures?

As one of my new and exciting bloggista friends, kim-d, so graciously pointed out, I did not post any pictures of our fabuloso ski trip yesterday.

You see, Kim, I am not Chief of the Camera. My role is limited to gently inquiring "Did you bring the camera?" To which I invariably hear a friendly, but ever-so-slightly exasperated "Of course!"

So it figures that the day I decide to trust, to let go of my control issues and believe...He.Forgets.The.Damn.Camera. I will not get into how utterly beautiful the day was. How the snow glistened like diamonds on the trees, how the sun rose just past the horizon to warm up noses and hands. How the hill was completely devoid of people and totally silent, and all we could hear were Benjamin's squeals of delight and the soft swoosh of the snow as we raced down the hills. (There's sound in photos, people. Work it. And say it with me -- his fault.)

But! My hubster did recover some good will when he managed to snap the following shots with his cell phone:





On the Christmas front, I am happy to report that Mike has been getting in touch with his crafty side. This is a truly wonderful thing, since I don't have such a side. I am craft-less. Crafts are best done with me on the sidelines, cheering from a safe distance. And documenting for my blog, of course.

So without further ado, I give you Monday's creation, courtesy of Mike and the boys:



The gingerbread house has retained its roof for 4 days now. A career best chez Viking Conquest.

This unexpected crafting success is taking my boys into bold, new, unexplored territory. Behold this evening's action:



The performance anxiety:



I know! It's getting downright scary. In fact, the kids quickly decided that PlayStation was a safer bet, leaving me with this:



I gotta love a guy who can make cute Santa decorations!

And speaking of cute, here's my B boy before going to the theatre with his Mormor last night:



Before you "awwww" too much, I should tell you that the pattern on the tie is all skulls. As in pirate skulls. Johnny Depp, take note!

And, for my Grand Finale, the gorgeous Swarowski crystal decoration my wonderful and incredibly kind friend Morag sent to me from Canada:



And that concludes the Picture Event.

Happy Weekend everyone! I'm hoping to squeeze in at least one more post before Christmas, but for those of you who are signing off from the blogosphere today - Happy Holidays!

'Tis The Season...

...to resolve the age old conflict between Darwinists and Creationists.

I present to you:

Benjamin's Theory Of Evolutionary Creation

B: "Do you know who created people, mamma?"
Me: "Do you?"
B: "The God of the Earth did."
Me: "Cool."
B: "Yes, he created a fish, and the fish went onto land and developed legs."
Me: "Oh, and then the fish became human?"
B: "Yeah."
Me: "You sure do know a lot!"

Benjamin is quiet for a little bit, and it's clear something's bothering him:

B (with disgust in his voice): "Except some people came from gorillas!"
Me (definitely not laughing): "But clearly not you."
B: "No, I came the fish way!"

**************

We took a mental health day yesterday, packed boys and gear into our little car and drove off to Kongsberg ski centre for a lovely day of downhill skiing. Our first time out this year. It was fantastic! Because we are the only bad-parents-who-let-our-kids-miss-school-to-ski in Norway, we essentially had the slopes to ourselves. Not once did we have to wait for a chair lift, and as we skied down, we rarely saw others on our way. Being bad parents is definitely the way to go, especially the week before Christmas, when it appears that all the children do at school is sing carols and talk about what they would like from Santa.

**************

In much less exciting news, I am absolutely inundated with work this week, which leads me to question why the need for Scandinavian translations always intensifies right before a holiday? Could it be because everyone knows that Heidi has not finished her Christmas shopping yet? And her house is a pigsty dearly in need of a good scrubbing down?

Because, really, deep down, I know the Universe is all about me, me, me, me.

And unfortunately, at the moment, not so much about you. I am sorry, my bloggy friends, that I haven't been able to visit you as much as I'd like to. I will definitely be making the rounds as soon as I can get these pesky assignments off my desk! And the shopping done. And the house cleaned. (And maybe just a teeny, tiny bit more skiing...)

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.