The Aftermath of Friday's Attacks

I've been reading a lot since Friday and thereby writing very little - trying to wrap my head around exactly what has happened in Oslo at the hands of someone who will probably soon be deemed a psychopath. Being in another country when tragedy strikes brings a little more attention to the local news sources and attempts to understand foreign vocabulary on unfamiliar topics. In learning Norwegian, I had never thought about how to translate words such as "execution," "custody," or "perpetrator" but in three days time they have become all too familiar. On the other hand, there is also a vocabulary of hope and national unity that runs as a thread through the gruesome news accounts, and in this I find some comfort.

The bombing site in Oslo is a five to ten minute bike ride from my apartment. A distance far enough away not to be directly effected, but too close to ignore what will be a major event in Norwegian history. Today I borrowed a city bike and rode to the site to better understand what had happened and what is currently ongoing in the Oslo. I chose not to ride my personal bike since I wasn't sure what to expect in way of finding a place to lock it up and walk around. Most of me imagined there would be soldiers in fatigues carrying large guns at every access point - a sight that ironically I've only experienced when passing through Penn Station in New York and by the American embassy in Nepal.

It turned out that instead of armed guards at every view point, there are flowers. People have turned the fences into memorials which draw crowds to sidewalks and closed streets. An amazing number of people are out in the city today visiting these memorials and trying to make sense of what has occurred in our city. It shocked me dually to see the extent of damage through the city's buildings (at least a quarter of what I'd consider the downtown area is affected) and the amount of compassion in the city's people. Residents and visitors from all backgrounds are united in the aftermath of this tragedy.

Before today's visit, everything that occurred on Friday has been a little remote to me and I've looked upon the events as a distant observer. This feeling the more emphasized by not being a Norwegian, but of closely observing the reactions of both the Norwegian people and the Norwegian government. I must say that it's greatly impressed me to be here at this period of such tragedy in being able to see the strength of democratic ideals and unchanging policies of openness and acceptance. I was greatly touched by this first hand account of the island assassinations urging against irrationality, hatred and calling for the death penalty.

Governmentally, the prime minister and the king both continue to repeat a sort of mantra urging not to allow fear to lead, but instead to continue strongly upholding the values Norway have always held. These quotes comfort me in their sincerity - while these attacks were extremely tragic, I believe (and hope) that Norway will keep their overall trust in humanity and refrain from becoming a landscape of fear marked by heavy blockades, military presence, metal detectors, x-ray machines, and above all, hatred.

Lunch in Norway

On my last visit back to the US, a lot of people were curious about what Norwegians eat, so I decided to take this photo today as I sat down to lunch. Lunch may be a slightly misleading term when talking about Norwegian meals, since it's typically not a necessary or very substantial meal here - very often it's replaced by something called the 12 o'clock coffee. The coffee here becomes more necessary than the food to a lot of people (who then eat a big warm dinner after work, around 4).

So my lunch, or coffee, here consists of a few very Norwegian ingredients plus a small international twist that is all my own. The base is crisp bread - basically airy, dry crackers that are rarely eaten here without spreading some butter and then adding a topping (or 'pålegg' in Norwegian). Pålegg literally means to lay on/over, so there a wide variety of toppings from jam to cheese or meat can be added to crisp bread (or to regular bread - Norwegians enjoy a great selection of hearty wheat breads as a staple in the diet). Buffets and hotel breakfasts all over Norway usually contain a selection of fresh breads with impressive bars for the toppings, plus eggs, sausage, fresh fruit, yogurt, muesli and other cereals.

Today for pålegg I have some canned mackerel (that holds a taste and consistency somewhat similar to tuna) that has been preserved in a slightly oily tomato sauce. Perhaps not seeming so appetizing to the un-initiated, it is actually quite tasty and healthy - with high Omega 3 content and Vitamin D (which is ever important during the months without sun here). The cucumber is another typical ingredient found (and actually grown) here, but for a bit of extra interest I've added some homemade guacamole. Avocados sold here are also mostly grown in Peru or Chile and shipped in, so it's not the most sustainable decision but I do find myself eating them quite often here - both as pålegg and as a side to the (growing trend) of Tex-Mex dinners.

The afternoon meal is complete with a cup of strong, black coffee - another item I did not enjoy nearly as much before moving here.

All About My Mother

I suppose this blog will start with a small dedication to the women of my family - however far from them I've swayed in matters of place, taste, preference, or opinion, they're a good grounding point upon which I somehow define myself.

First, my ever-supportive sister Elaine (commonly known as Lainy, or 'Laniey' as I've consistently misspelled it my entire life).. It was her idea that I start a personal blog to better relate my wanderings and amusing stories. Upon the suggestion, I had to admit I do enjoy writing and that I've been poor at emailing these to potentially interested parties since I moved from the US to Norway. So here it is, we will see where it goes since I find myself perpetually unable to stick to patterns and intents without improvisation (a quality that defines my knitting, cooking, and life as somewhat unique).

So next, a tribute to my mom, Patricia Anne Murphy Wilson whose 58th birthday it would be today if she were still around. I hope this blog will be more anecdotal than sentimental, though my mother, of course, deserves a bit of both. She is missed, in her sometimes eccentric ways, and I'm often reminded of her in myself. Sometimes I wonder which aspects of my upbringing lead me to the path of travel, where I found interest in cities and lived in NYC for nearly five years, or how I came to settling down - at least for the time being - in Norway. There simply aren't many precedents for these tendencies in my family although I might note here my mother's decision to relocate us to North Carolina. I presume that she might have had some subtle, if unrealized, curiosities towards other places.

Asides from an architecture/design/landscape preoccupation, I realize that I've developed a series of hobbies and interests that begin to pin my life down even when location does less so. Cooking, gardening, writing, and knitting amongst others - themes which will no doubt command later blog entries. Ironically, I realize the first two of these were items that my mom continually tried to force upon my (very resistant) childhood and teenage years. In spite of her sincere interests and abilities in these two fields I was determined not to dabble in food and to proclaim an utter dislike of flowers up until I had left home and was in college. In hindsight, I could have learned a great deal if I had paid more attention growing up, but at the least I'm fortunate enought to have (even if unwillingly at the time) committed mom's recipes for meatloaf, lasagna, italian meatballs, quiche, and apple pie to heart. And, I can identify marigolds from petunias and chrysanthemums.

More interesting, now that I cook a great deal (and even enjoy it), I realize I have a lot of my mother's tendencies. She never quite followed a recipe, each time changing the spice mix to her mood and experimenting from a base. I think we also shared what I recognize in myself as impatience for details (ironic given my line of work). This came to mind recently in a kitchen incident jarring memory. My boyfriend Rolf was helping me in the kitchen and began chiding me as he took over the duty of chopping vegetables. I really never do have the patience to cut ingredients small enough! So, seeing the difference between his and my chopped work brought a childhood memory of (greatly disliking) large chunks of onion in mom's (otherwise tasty) pastas and soups.

Mom & I - This was taken over Christmas of 2003 in Old Salem, North Carolina.

So, for the memory of my mom, and for myself and others who can't stick to a prescribed route (and not excluding those who enjoy reading about tribulations related to such), here is a blog...