One of the rare upright moments on my first try

My goal is simply to stay up downhill and not slide down the uphills. Cross-country skis are thin and not made for manuvering like alpine skis, which makes descending difficult. To complicate matters, you typically ski in tracks (picture, grooves in the snow).  These tracks are basically “foot traps”.  Swift your balance incorrectly or let the ski catch the edge of the track, and you’ll end up face first on the ground with a smile of snow.

Cutting a groove: A snow plow prepares fresh tracks for skiing

Going uphill is even more difficult.  When done incorrectly, you slide backwards.  It’s very humbling to watch young kids sprint up hills the hill you’re struggling up.  In the time it took me to go 5 feet, a guy my age completed the whole hill.  I was speechless and tried to imitate his form, but it only produced more backsliding.  Needless to say, the sport is incredibly demanding and encapsulates much of the Norwegian culture.  It’s a ritual for Norway to take home multiple medals in XC.  Look for the same in Vancouver.  Not to be outdone, I’ve included some of my “medals” (i.e., the GPS tracks from the trips this season).

Team Building

I work with a team of six clever and friendly consultants/engineers and joined them for their annual team building a few weeks ago. This year’s trip was to the mountains for some skiing and relaxation. Being my first XC-skiing trip, I had no idea what to expect. The first few steps I tried to walk normally, and instead of moving, I stayed in the same place.  A very new and strange experience.  With each step, my foot would slide right back to the same spot. Madness! Eventually, I learned to glide, shift my weight, and use poles.  As soon as I began to feel comfortable, we ventured downhill, and I must have set a record for falls (about 10-20 times).  Toward the end, I finally got the hang of it and had an excellent time.

Sognsvann to Ullevålseter

I joined a few co-workers for a night of skiing at Sognsvann (sounds like, Song Swan). The first half has some challenging uphills. I was so happy to reach the top and refuel at a charming little cabin/caffe at Ullevålseter. The downhill was fast and fun. To my surprise, I only wiped out once.  Click on the icons for pictures (via www.skiforeningen.no).

Track near my Apartment

Yesterday (Saturday) I decided to take a solo trip to the tracks right next to my apartment. Thankfully, it wasn’t crowded, allowing me to go even slower and work on technique.   I don’t think it improved much, but it was fun (though exhausting!) On the very last downhill, I saw an elderly lady.  I tried to control my speed to avoid a collision (my #1 fear). In the process, I completely wiped out a full 15 yards away from her, which caused a very rare and pleasant conversation. Typically, it’s hard to start convesations with my neighbors, but that’s a story for another day. Here’s the track, which I completed counter-clockwise.

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“It’s a dangerous business going out your door.  You step
onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s not telling
where you might be swept off to.”

-Frodo, recalling the words of Bilbo Baggins, Lord of the Rings

The route to church requires 3 buses, which run every 30 to 60 minutes.  So, if you miss one, then you may as well go back home.  It also cost an extra $28 for bus fare (in addition to my monthly pass), but whose counting?   After (relatively) little trouble, I arrived at the 3rd bus stop in Sandvika and walked on the 761 to Skui. 

“Is this going to Tangum?” I asked.
“Tangen or Tanum,” he said. 
“Tangem [a slur of the two choices], I think? It’s spelled T-A-N-”. 
The driver interjected, “No, you want the 762 going to Tanum”. 
“Oh, thank you sir. Do you have a route map?” 
Studying the timetables and my gut, I asked the driver to open the door.  “I want to go here,” I replied.
He said, “oh, Tangen, well get on”

And with that, he refused to take my fare! Sweet! I saved $7; I could buy lunch with that [in Texas].  On the bus, I talked with a Somalian immigrant, who doesn’t like watching the news. “All you hear is people dying”, he said.  As I was getting off, he asked, “Do you know where your going?” I replied, “Sorta.  If I don’t, you’ll hear about it on the news, I guess.”

Would you find a church along a trail like this?

This is the spot where Nathan and I got lost last week.  I had studied the map carefully before leaving, but as usual, I left a good part of the details to chance. Going off instinct, I came to the trail leading to the church. Nobody had walked it in a few days, so I was packing inches of virgin snow.  Arriving at the church, I was startled to see no cars in the parking lot.  “Is joke?” I thought.  It’s Sunday, the only thing that’s supposed to be open is a church. But sure enough it was.  I recalled something on the website about a join service with another local Norwegian church to celebrate baptism at 1:30pm, but surely that didn’t replace the main service, right?? No, it did. 

Not wanting to stand around for 3 hours in the weather, I had limited options.  The bus back to Sandvika was coming soon, so if I hurried, so I hurried only to watched it drive off.   The next bus won’t be coming for another hour, and the idea of standing made me even colder. I decided to walk the 2 km to Sandvika without directions.  Hurray for a GPS!!  Unfortunately, it doesn’t give great walking directions, so I had to improvise.  It was working great until I hit a walker’s deadend.  The “sidewalk” was buried in 2 feet of snow and on my right was a tunnel and my left was a 4 lane highway. Which way to go??

The entrance to IBC the week before (notice the cars)

Checking traffic, I waited for the highway to clear.  Looking ahead, I caught a glimpse of more snow piles, but it didn’t look too bad.  I half-sprinted, anticipating ice patches, and threw myself at the guardrail keeping me from the median.  I wish I had leg extensions for moments like this.  Up and over, and DOWN.  Ughh, I was knee-deep in snow, but there wasn’t time to care. As traffic cleared, I ran (like a penguin) across the rest of the highway.  And then, I heard sirens!

I thought, “The cops? Really? Just my luck, I’m probably going to jail for this. Now, my Somalian friend is going to see me on the news! Geez, I’m just glad I did this on my own.” Those peaceful thoughts, I paraphrased all into in a single word.

Switching to a full sprint, I hoped to at least out run ‘em (works on TV!).  Only one obstacle remained – a 4-foot high concrete wall covered in fresh snow.  Throwing myself on the wall, I had to use my bare hands as support, as I pulled my legs up.  At the top, I looked back as the sirens grew closer.  A yellow ambulance flew past me.  Whew!! I wasn’t going to jail… today.

As the adrenaline diffused, I began thinking more clearly.  “Where are the witnesses?!?! Who is going to believe this? What is a Norwegian jail like anyway? And why isn’t at least one friend here to share this with me? And who really does something this stupid??”  Then, my hands began to burn from snow climbing. Ooohh, it was so cold.  Bare hands weren’t made for snow. 

Looking down my street (Søndre Rød). The apartment is on the far right

It would still be another 75 minutes before I made it home.  I missed the next bus by 2 minutes (again).  Luckily, there was a 7/11 equivalent open with a heater.  Later, as I walked to the final bus stop, I still 40 yards away when I saw it approaching.  I was not going to miss it. This half-frozen, half-crazed Texan probably would have beat Usain Bolt to the bus.  As I approached, the door closed just as I made eye contact with the driver.  And then, it magically opened. Perhaps my miserable face made him reconsider leaving me.  Sweet Victory.  It’s funny how quickly a day of mis-adventures can be forgotten by catching one bus.

(photo credit to Nathan)

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My apartment (it’s the white building in the center of view)

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DNV Campus
The DNV campus didn’t receive full coverage, but here’s a picture of the security gate, which was probably responsible for the lack of coverage. I’m kinda sad about this because the campus is absolutely gorgeous. The land was given to DNV for free on the grounds that it would be kept as a public park. Doesn’t it look nice?

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Downtown Røa

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The new Opera House

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Vigelandsparken
From Wikipedia, “The park covers 80 acres (320,000 m2) and features 212 bronze and granite sculptures created by Gustav Vigeland. Vigeland personally sculpted every figure out of clay and individual craftsmen were contracted to fabricate the pieces into what they are today. These works of art reside along an 850 meter-long axis divided into six sections: The Main Gate, The Bridge, The Children’s Playground, The Fountain, The Monolith Plateau and the Wheel of Life.” And oh yeah, they’re all nude. This is Norway.

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Nobel Peace Prize
If you have romantic notions of the Noble Peace Prize, then you may not want to look at this StreetView. Maybe looks can be deceiving?

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Norwegian Roadside
Here’s just a random photo from the Norwegian country-side on the highway from Oslo to Bergen. I really can’t wait for the snow to melt!

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After generating a grocery list of 15-20 items, I estimated I had 30+ lbs of groceries to bring home on a warm 20 degree afternoon. Oh, the value of a well-built bike with panniers (or saddle bags).  Before I left, I bought a 2009 Long Haul Trucker by Surly and outfitted it with racks and 4 Ortlieb panniers.  It takes a good picture.  And it also carries a lot groceries… that is, if you can make it to the store.  You see, by nature, bicycles resist roads covered in fresh snow.  Lacking spiked tires, I had to do a fair amount of walking just to get to the store, which gave me enough time to think of an alternate route home.

To compound my frustration, I walked in the grocery to discover that carts require a deposit.  Of course, I didn’t have any coins on me, and I wasn’t in the mood to carry my saddle bags around to find one, either.  So, I asked someone’s grandmother for help.  Even though she didn’t quite understand my English, my face said it all, “Can you spare a dime?” Or, in Norwegian, can you spare $2!!  Yeah, I have tried (unsuccessfully) to stop converting currency even though it makes me cry.

Finally inside the store, I learned that even though 90% of the country speaks excellent English, they don’t always know the words for “baking powder” or “chicken broth”.  Why would they when chicken broth costs $5 per CUP.  Do you see why price conversions lead to tears?  Don’t ask what houses cost.  Anyway, I did find a very helpful stocker named Magnus, who helped me find all the Norwegian equivalents to what I needed.  I’ve been back since, and Magnus is quickly becoming my good friend.  I just hope it’s mutual because I have lots of questions.

Check-out in Norway is “You buy it, you bag it” system.  So, speed is valued, and slow baggers will build a queue of shoppers.  Looking dumb and foreign helps slightly, but trying to a picture of the fiasco isn’t exactly well-received.  But I did anyway… the blur is reflective of the experience. 

Four bags and $115 later, I rode back home on the main road.  As cars zipped inches from my left shoulder, I repeated promises forbidding me to ride to the grocery until the snow melted.

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5 pieces of luggage for 2 hands

Leading up to departure, I had one recurring fear: transporting the luggage from the Oslo airport to the new apartment.  My luggage consists of an oversized duffle bag, a carry-on suitcase, a laptop bag, a Kelty backpack, and a bike.  The first three were all no-brainers and had to come.  The backpack?  Well, Norway has mountains, and I am a backpacker, after all.  So yeah, the backpack, tarp, stove, sleeping bag, water filter, etc. were all coming, too.  Now, the bike?  Well, I have been dreaming of taking a cycling vacation for 3 years, and I lot of people have been encouraging it.  The bike deserves its own post, but I’ll wait.

The means for transporting the bicycle had remained unproven up until the night before leaving.  I will always be a last-minute person.  Thankfully, I have a resourceful family.  We found a bike shop willing to sell us a true bike box to replace my failed attempt at repackaging the bike in its original box.  With the packing solved, the fear of transporting luggage returned.   Why not just hire a taxi? Well, taxis are incredibly expensive, and it would have likely cost ~$300! 

The flight over to Oslo was fine, and even though I was recovering from a mild case of food poisoning, the flight was pleasantly uneventful (except the man next to me from Newark to Oslo).  After exiting the plane in Olso, I immediately producing a cloud of white exhale as I scurried to the customs counter.  All the travel hiccups were much easier the second time through airport.  Passport, check! Luggage cart, check. Luggage, check. Get Cash, Train ticket, and take elevator down to train. Check, check, and Checkmate Oslo airport. Oh how often pride precedes destruction.

Walking to the train station, I was still producing white plume of exhale!   As the train was arriving.  I asked for help, and as I was picking a seat, I heard the computerized conductor say, “This is the direct train to Oslo-City Centre”.  Arrggh!! And in a scamper, the train’s toll man and I threw my stuff off…. well, only 4 of the 5 bags!! I forgot about the small suitcase, the one with all, and I do mean all, my work clothes.  But I had no idea. None whatsoever. 

So, I boarded the next train, still clueless, sat down and started making conversation with a Danish father and son in town for a wedding.  The new toll man came walking up to my row, so I reached for my pocket, but instead of asking for my ticket, he asked if I left a bag on the train ahead of us.  To prove my ignorance, I said “No, I don’t think so, but let’s check, there should are 5 bags.”  1, 2, 3, 4… uggghhh.  I was naked and very ashamed.  The kind, though cross-eyed, toll man said a bag was left for him at Oslo City-Center, he just needed my name to confirm my name (kudos, to my sister for legibly labeling all the bags).  The remainder of the trip, I just kept thinking how glad I was in honestly, deceptively-friendly Norway. And what I would have worn to work on Monday! With one pair of jeans and some t-shirts, it wasn’t much.

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