Koede boernie

This morning it was -20°(C), we went to our favourite school but we didn't play.

This is the school:

This is why we didn't play:

Bergenhus Skole is the only school I've been to so far that has a very nice black box theatre. Unfortunately, that's not so ideal for this performance. We had some discussions about it yesterday (before going there), but based on our combined memories, we couldn't remember enough to really know whether it would be possible to play or not. So we decided to go there and find out.

My memory had no records of the seating steps not all being wide enough to put a tripod on.
With wider steps, we could have played half on the steps.
However, as you can see, only the middle step was wide enough, which would mean the tripods (with the projection screen draped over them) would be too far away from the floor cloth the kids sit on, and the projection itself would have been reduced to the size of a tv screen.

Some of the option we went through were: cutting the projections, cutting the slide projections, cutting the double bass, playing for only 20 kids instead of 100. None of them were acceptable.

If it wouldn't have been so damn cold, we could have played in the gym, but the heating in the gym didn't work (frozen pipes or something), so we couldn't move there.

The school then suggested the hall:

The problem there was that it was also the main entrance to the school, and the different parts of the school connect through this space. Additionally there are some enormous windows at both sides, and a lot of light-spill from the adjoining class rooms. So again, not an option.

You would have thought we'd be in and out of there in no time, but as we all like it there so much, we stayed there for an hour and a half, and talked to the teacher who was in charge of us. She was a very nice lady who told us her husband is a pig farmer, and these temperatures are quite tricky to keep the water flowing for the pigs to drink.
She also said he can't go away. Not even for a day, let alone a holiday somewhere warmer. Pigs need to eat twice a day. Every day.
It sounds like a hard life to me, but I guess that if he really hated it, he wouldn't be doing it.

After having coffee and cake (the school supplied the coffee, Nils had made the cake), we drove back to Oslo. In total, we drove for three hours and visited a school for an hour and a half. Not your standard working day. Not ours either.

Back in Oslo, I thought I should test myself under these weather conditions. So Anna and I walked to the harbour. It was cold, but not unpleasant.


And now my skin feels a bit sunburnt, even though I'd pulled my hat down to just above my eyes, and pulled my woolly collar up to just under my eyes.
I can deal with -20°.
The weather forecast says it's going to get colder.
I'll test my resistance if it does. But I'm glad I decided to put the International Haircuts on hold until after winter.

A good day

Today we had a much gentler start. No angry men waiting for us by the car, a smooth ride to the school, very friendly teachers, a gym with a half-decent blackout and very nice kids.

This was the view from the school:

I no longer need gas to start with a bang

Happy New Year.



Like a lot of kids this morning, we got up early to start work again.

The car has been fixed now, so I can leave the startgas in the car door and just turn the key and go.

This morning however, things weren't quite that easy.
Anna and I are staying in a short term rental flat which comes with a car park. Anna had been staying there before with Honza, but I'd never been there. When I arrived, she met me downstairs to show me the garage.
The space Honza used before was taken, so I parked next to it. There was plenty of empty space in the car park, so I assumed it would be fine. (Assumption...)

So this morning, at 6.45, we saw a Landrover parked right behind our van. And a man walking around the cars parked either side of the van.
As we approached he said to me in Norwegian: 'Is this your van? Why did you park there?' Even though I had understood, my Norwegian is not good enough for an elaborate apology and/or explanation, so I told him I didn't understand Norwegian. Technically I don't. If it suits me, I do. A bit.
The man was angry. Or rather, he was fuming. I tried to explain I was unaware of the numbered parking spaces, and that I only just arrived the night before. He told me that if we had been two minutes later, he'd have left and his car would be there until Friday. (And if my uncle had breasts he'd be my aunt, but anyway.)
I apologised a bit more, but it only made him angrier. It seemed incredibly hard to steer the conversation to an end, despite the fact that we clearly both had somewhere to go.

He concluded with: 'Anyway, this car is from Fredrikstad, it's not even supposed to be here. Is this even your car?' I promised him I'd call our landlord as soon as it was a more respectable hour to call people and find out where I should park. I apologised again and got into the van.
That's when I saw him remove notes from under the windscreens of the cars either side of the van.
They were printed. Not handwritten.
Which explained how much time the man had had to work up this seemingly exaggerated rage. If he'd already gone back into his flat to trace the licence plate of our van and write and print out notes on his computer, he'd definitely had enough time to reach the boiling point.


Having said all of that, my experience of Norwegians couldn't be further removed from this morning's incident. I know Norwegians as patient, friendly and welcoming.
But for all I know I may have caused this man to miss his train that would take him to work outside Oslo, or even miss his flight towards a holiday somewhere warm. Whatever it was, I'm sure there was enough reason to be furious with me.

Again, Mr. Landrover, please accept my apologies. It won't happen again.


This is what we can see from our balcony. It's 15.43 and the sun is setting.