Friday, April 30, 2010

Capital, Again

Last weekend I had the pleasure of visiting Washington, D.C., again. This time, there was a special occasion: it was Caitlin's birthday, so I, along with several other Oles, descended upon her city to help her celebrate. This required, of course, visits to museums and the Mall and all that Washington-y stuff that you'd expect of a trip to the capital. For example, we stopped in the National Archives to see the Declaration of Independence, the Bill of Rights, and of course, the Constitution -- all 4 pages of it. That's right; ever since the building was remodeled less than a decade ago, all 4 pages have been on display, whereas only the first and last pages were displayed before. It was remarkable how much better preserved the Constitution was than the other 2 documents. It was interesting to note how much more legible the Constitution was compared to the badly faded documents to its sides. We have no theories as to why that is. I'm sure it's on Wikipedia somewhere.

The azaleas seemed to be EVERYWHERE.

After the National Archives, we spent the rest of the afternoon at the National Gallery of Art, which of course had far too much to see in one afternoon. We triaged and ended up seeing paintings from the Impressionists, Renaissance Italy, and 19th-century Germany, as well as some sculptures. It was wonderful to see the likes of Raphael, Van Gogh, Monet, Picasso, Rodin, and countless other famous artists all in our nation's capital. We really have so much to be thankful for.

How can I not love Mercury? Wings on his feet, caduceus in his hand, and a finger pointing up toward the stars. My kind of guy.

Another highlight of the weekend was my excursion to the National Basilica, which is apparently the largest Catholic church in the Americas (yes, ALL of them). It was, as would be expected, incredibly beautiful. It was filled with mosaics and beautiful statues, not to mention a gigantic pipe organ. At the same time, the white walls lent a feeling of openness and airiness which helped counteract the feeling of being very small in a very big space. It was much lighter and more welcoming than St. Patrick in Manhattan, which to me feels dark and closed in, comparatively. The celebrating priest was from Chicago. I got the feeling that there are frequently visiting priests (after all, why not?), so it was interesting to have someone from the Midwest.

BIG church

Pretty on the inside, too

After Mass, I was able to meet up with my friends one last time on the Mall. There was a climate change rally going on that afternoon, which, as environmentally conscious Oles, we dutifully attended. And got free stuff. Yes, as noble as it sounds to go to a rally in the nation's capital, I have to admit that the overriding motivation was to get free stuff. Here's how I think of it: a rally is kind of like a museum. There are tents and exhibits set up by different people and organizations, and they're interesting to look at and learn about, and sometimes to even interact. For example, I got to pose in an EVA suit at the NASA tent! And we all got to sign a space shuttle tire -- one that's been into space! Even better, though, were the handouts: I now have a holographic NASA ruler, a DVD about the earth's changing climate (video taken by satellites), NASA hand sanitizer, little flashlights, a bright-green reusable bag with the NASA logo (that was my favorite), and sycamore seeds. Good haul, I'd say. And then I got on the bus back to New York. What a great weekend!

Yeah...I'd say it fits me pretty well.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Loratadine

Spring is great. Flowers are pretty. Leaves look nice. Warm weather feels good. I love the changing seasons...and in the past, I've never had any reason to dread them. I'm happy and comfortable in my beautiful home state of Minnesota. I'm also willing to concede that New York can be beautiful, too.

Beautiful...but with a hidden foe.

I've never had allergies before. All that playing in the mud had apparently paid off in my lack of inappropriate immunosensitivity...until I moved to a new state. New York, you're great, but I'm allergic to you. I'm sorry, but I can't love you anymore. You've made me dependent on daily medication, and for that, I resent you. Just look at the evidence:

I don't appreciate expending extra effort to open my eyes against your evil edema...

So thank goodness for self-diagnosis and loratadine...a blessing and a curse.

My First All-Nighter! (...almost)

It's the stuff of college, right? Every self-sacrificing, self-respecting student must admit that sometimes, just sometimes, there isn't enough time to fit it all in, no matter how hard she tries. What is sacrificed? Time surfing the web? "Useless" (but sanity-sparing) hobbies? Extracurricular commitments? Meetings? Meals? The classes themselves, the ones that we've committed our minds and hearts and endless hours of our days to? Maybe. Maybe these can be sacrificed. But how can a good, committed student admit defeat? We want to prove we can do it all. Maybe we can't, but we don't want to show it. It would make us look lazy. It would make us look irresponsible. It would make us look undisciplined. No, surely that won't do. The only solution -- the only solution -- is, then, to give up that activity which no one else sees you do: sleep.

I've made it through college, and to be sure, it wasn't easy. Every semester filled to the gills with classes, student groups, work, band, volunteering, and all those little leadership things that look good on the resume, not to mention the occasional (hah!) illness to put a wrench in things. There were many times when there was just so much to do, and so few hours in the day in which to accomplish them. Many times when sleep hours were carefully, gradually shaved, slowly building a fatiguing debt. Many times when the ill-feeling caffeine high was all I could rely on to get me through the day...and evening and night.

BUT.

Call me lazy, call me weak, call me whatever you want, BUT I never pulled an all-nighter. Sure, there were plenty of weeks where consistent 6-hour (or less) nights built up to a fatigue so deep that the first hours of the morning felt like a haze, and the late hours of the night left me with no feeling in my body except a melting, wilting numbness (I'm looking at you, COT). Sure, there was that one time when I had to give a presentation the next day but was so tired that I had to sleep 2 hours, get up and write my speech at 2 a.m., and then go back to bed for the remaining 2 hours of the night (if that wasn't a weird experience, then nothing is). But no, I had never even considered suffering the formative experience of the all-nighter...

...until last night. Yes, I said considered. Last night, after catching an episode of Colbert, knitting an inch of my Norwegian sweater (it's really coming along!), playing some Chopin on the piano, and learning "La Bamba" on the ukulele, I discovered that I was scheduled to present the renal case conference today. The idea of presenting didn't bother me; I've done plenty of presentations before. No, what really froze my insides was the fact that I've been a little, shall we say, irresponsible. I had not been keeping up on my renal studying. In fact, I had only gotten through the first of 6 lectures -- and a good understanding of all 6 was necessary to present completely and coherently. Yikes. So at 9 p.m., I made a pot of tea and settled in, resigning myself reluctantly to the thought that perhaps I would experience my first all-nighter because of kidneys, of all things.

I didn't. I finished at 3:30 a.m. Sure, that's much later than ideal, but hey! I got to sleep for 4.5 hours. Not bad. At least, not as bad as it could have been.

So now the real question: Did I learn my lesson?

No. But look how far I've gotten on my sweater!

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Norway: The Rest

Yes, it's taken me a while, but I'm finally ready to finish off my Norway adventure. (In my defense, we've had 4 tests over the past week, and I've knitted approximately half of the body of a Norwegian sweater in that time. Be impressed.)

I left off with our return from Sognefjord. The rest of my time in Norway was spent in Bergen. In general, the city was quite quiet, because Holy Week is a holiday for Norwegians as well. In this spirit, most had vacated the city in order to stay in their cabins on the fjords or in the mountains, leaving the city (and its shops) deserted, to some degree. However, we still found plenty to do. For example:

We visited Edvard Grieg's house. This is the inside of his "composer's hut," which was behind the house, down a small hill, next to the water. Notice that he frequently sat on Beethoven's sonatas in the hopes that inspiration and greatness would transfer via osmosis.

We hiked up Ulriken, Bergen's tallest mountain. The day started clear...and then it began to rain...and then a thick cloud descended on us, making it impossible to see more than 20 feet ahead. At the top, we could see nothing, but then -- miracle! -- the cloud cleared for 5 minutes, giving us a spectacular view of the city.

We browsed the tourist shops in Bryggen, the old port area. Norwegian sweaters abounded.

We went to church at St. Paul on Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter Sunday. Here, on Easter, the crucifix has been uncovered, the Easter candle has been lit, and simple bouquets of daffodils adorn the altar. Beautiful.

Speaking of Easter, we had quite the Easter celebration. Becca invited several of her friends (almost all of whom were also international students who, unlike the Norwegians, were still in Bergen for the holiday) to come to the apartment for sweets, games, and Easter activities. All day Saturday, we shopped, cleaned, and baked in preparation for the big gathering.

All in a day's work: 8 dozen cookies, 2 bowls of pasta salad, 2 dozen scrambled eggs, 30 hard-boiled eggs, 2 coffee cakes...

...and 2 pies!

The party was a huge success. We ate until we could eat no more, and then we decorated eggs, played Uno, played charades, and tried a mystery-whodunnit type game that one of Becca's friends taught us. (Because it obviously matters, here was the outcome: Becca and Erlend were both arrested for a crime that I actually committed. I used my botanical research to buy a potent poison in Brussels from a time-traveler from the future. I slipped the poison into William Shakespeare's drink at a party I was hosting, because I couldn't stand his misogynistic ideals after hearing of the fabulous notions of women's equality from my time-traveling friend. And that is how Shakespeare was murdered.)

Finally! A clear view of Bergen from Fløyen. This is the Sentrum, where we spent most of our time.

On my final day, we climbed another mountain, Fløyen, with Raanan and Erlend. This one was much tamer, with a paved path the whole way up. There were so many people out enjoying the holiday and the on-and-off sun, just like us. I flew home the next day, slightly delayed but otherwise smooth. After becoming used to the rain, snow, and clouds in Bergen, I was caught slightly off-guard by the sunshine, blooming flowers, and 80-degree days that greeted me back in New York. I can't believe the trip went so quickly; I am so lucky to have such an incredible friend in Becca. I truly felt at home with her, and we had a wonderful time spending time with each other, catching up, and having a few adventures. What a wonderful way to spend Easter!

The smiles say it all.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Norway: The Fjord

It never crossed my mind that Norway wouldn't cross people's minds. Growing up in the Midwest, with all its Scandinavian roots, as well as attending a college founded by Norwegians, has given me an awareness of Norway (and Scandinavia in general) equal to that of the rest of Europe. It's a country as equally familiar as the rest of those countries from which so many of our ancestors emigrated, like Germany, England, Italy, and the rest of the big players. It never occurred to me that Norway would be...unknown. Exotic. To a lot of my friends here, most of whom are from one of the coasts, Scandinavia is just that. They don't have much (or any) experience with Scandinavians (or people with Scandinavian roots); many don't even know what language is spoken in Norway! (Believe me. I've been asked several times.) However, if there's one thing people know about Norway, it's this: Norway has fjords.

Ridiculously deep ocean inlet surrounded by dramatic mountainous cliffs? Check.

Not only did we visit a fjord, we visited the longest and deepest fjord in all of Norway: Sognefjord. Becca's friend, Mari, was incredibly kind to invite us to stay a night with her family at their home in Leikanger, one of the many small towns along Sognefjord. Our trip there was quite the adventure: First we took the regular train from Bergen to Myrdal. Then we caught the Flåmsbana, a smaller train taking a slower and more scenic route through the mountains, from Myrdal to Flåm. Next we boarded a bus to take us to Sogndal (and the bus took a ferry across the fjord), and finally, Mari's parents picked us up to take us the rest of the way to Leikanger. The traveling took a while, but the views as we passed through the mountains were worth it.

We felt as though we were traveling through Narnia.

Flåm sits on the tip of one of Sognefjord's many fingers.

Our time staying with Mari and her family was spent relaxing in the typical Norwegian fashion. We ate delicious meals (hot homemade soup for "dinner" at 4, mmm), drank coffee by the water, read, napped, chatted, ate some more, drank tea. I was struck the entire time by the incredible hospitality of Mari's family, and also by the incredible gift I was being given, to be allowed to experience life the way typical Norwegians do.

We bundled up to drink coffee by the fjord.

So peaceful, so relaxed

The next morning, we were able to see even more of the fjord when we caught a ferry that would take us all the way to Bergen. We traveled west through the rest of Sognefjord and then south down the coast to Bergen. We saw clear skies and sunshine for the first time, and what an impact it made!

Calm waters, snowy mountains, brisk air

Back in Bergen, we spent much of the day resting and making our plans for the rest of the week. By some miracle, we were treated to a spectacular sunset which we were able to view by poking our heads out of Becca's skylight. And that is what I will leave you with, until next time...

Bergen the beautiful

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Norway: The Beginning

I think I'll break up the trip into three parts. No particular reason, really, except that it is easier to think of things in blocks. So it begins...

One major difference between my trip to Norway and all of my previous trips overseas was the lack of traveling I did once I got there. After I made it to Bergen, Rebecca and I stayed in the city except for one brief sojourn to a nearby fjord. I have to say, it was actually quite a relief not to have to think about packing, unpacking, repacking, hauling luggage, and doing it all over again every few days. Sure, I didn't "see" as much of the country, but I really got to know Bergen and had a wonderful experience spending time with Becca, getting to know her friends, and avoiding the stress of constantly being on the move. This unquestionable lack of traveling had to be made up for somehow, though, and it certainly was on either end of the journey: bus from apartment to subway station, subway to Penn Station, train to Newark, airtrain to international terminal, plane to Copenhagen, final plane to Bergen. Luggage lost between Copenhagen and Bergen. It didn't matter: I was in Bergen, and there was Becca to meet me!

My first view of Norway: Endless mountains covered in snow, broken up only by the shining blue of fjords reaching their spindly fingers into the mainland

The luggage was expected to come to the airport that afternoon, and then it would be delivered to the apartment. I was not concerned. I was staying in an apartment with Becca and her roommates; I knew that they would be able to lend me anything that I needed in the meantime. So what did we do on my very first day in Norway? We did what the Norwegians do: we climbed a mountain! Bergen is surrounded by seven mountains (a surprising feature, given that it is also a port city). Løvstakken, the second-highest, was our goal for the afternoon, despite rain and a persistent fog. I borrowed some waterproof clothes and shoes (seeing as mine were somewhere between Denmark and Norway), and up we hiked, along with Becca's roommates and some of their other friends. The rain and fog meant that we didn't have any view of the city at the top, but we still rewarded ourselves with hot chocolate and candy.

The trek up Løvstakken

Just as I expected, the luggage arrived perfectly fine at the apartment just as we were coming back from our hike, so I was able to join everyone else in changing into some warm, clean, dry clothes. Inga cooked Norwegian pancakes for us, and then we all watched Pirates of the Caribbean. Partway through the movie, I began feeling really drowsy, but I was glad that Becca and her friends had kept me so active throughout the day. It's so much easier to get over jet lag when everyone else is pulling you into their "normal" schedule.

The next day, Becca and I explored Bergen. We went to the morning service at DELK, the church which she and many of her friends attend (and which is conveniently located downstairs and on the other side of her apartment building). Of course I didn't understand the readings and sermon in Norwegian, but we followed the readings in Becca's Bible, and I tried my best to attempt correct pronunciations for the songs. (In fact, I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, and I still don't. Which vowels sound like what? Do you pronounce the J's and K's? What about the vowels with little lines and circles through them? A fun guessing game...) I had never thought about this before, but the hymns that we sing at church -- even the old ones with melodies from the 1800s or earlier -- are not necessarily common throughout the world. All of the hymns that we sang had melodies that came from Norwegian folk songs. They had a haunting, lonely quality that was at the same time mesmerizing and incredibly beautiful, evoking images of mountains and hard work and simple living.

During the afternoon, we walked around the Sentrum of Bergen. Becca is lucky enough to live within this area, which is among the oldest sections of the city. All of the houses are extremely well kept, cozy, and, for lack of better word, cute. They are. They're all cute. It's what every little cutesy tourist area in America aspires to be, but it's authentic, and it's old, and it's how these Norwegians actually live.

Cozy.

Later that evening, we went to Mass at St. Paul Church. It was the weekly English Mass, and it was packed. Apparently every Mass there is packed, since it's the only Catholic church in the city, but it was even more so because it was Palm Sunday. It was so good to have our palms and hear the readings in English, but it was certainly different than at home. The music was contemporary, but thankfully, as Becca put it, it was done in a "non-distracting" way. We even sang one song that I recognized from our old SPO songbooks, so that was a pleasant surprise. Bergen has a surprisingly diverse immigrant population, especially at the Catholic church, so it was also a powerful testament to see so many people of different cultures worshiping together.

Exploring Bergen in our skirts and rain boots

The next day was the beginning of our fjord experience, so I will save that for my next post. Two final pictures:

Bergen houses with Løvstakken in the background

Ahh, a familiar face at St. Paul's!

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Norway: Coming Soon

Once I have a chance to breathe, I plan on sharing my Norway adventures. Becca and I had a fantastic time together, and the entire time there, I had a bizarre but pleasant sense of familiarity. My brain knew I was in a different country, but so many times I caught myself thinking of it as home. I will now include three pictures for illustrative purpose. More to follow.

Aaker House, where I lived with Becca and 5 others during our senior year at St. Olaf. Typical homey, cozy Minnesota.

New York, being typical New York: exciting and unendingly busy

Where Becca and I stayed in Leikanger, on Sognefjord. Now does it make sense that Norway felt more like home than New York?