One Year Anniversairy

A rather strange day occurred recently when I realized to my horror that I had in fact been in Norway for exactly a year last Saturday. Desperate to make a deal about it, I tried to arrange a celebration, maybe even start a little something for all of my other "invanderer" friends. As it happens, sodding Eurovision was on the same day.

(As an aside, have to say, Pete Waterman needs shooting for that travesty of music, and lets be honest, did anyone else notice that the English "dancers" were all drunk during the show part of the night? So embarrassing.)

Anyway, just as I was prepared to settle in for a night of eurotrash, my good friends surprised me with a gift an a hug, congratulating me for a job well done. Interestingly enough, those good friends will have been here a year in July sometime, so maybe a tradition can start for this? If I could coin it, I call it Invaders day, celebrating one year as an Invader, or immigrant if you like. :)

Anyway, for this years Anniversairy (a word I always struggle to spell) Ive decided to write up something of an appraisal. Maybe look back at past posts, events and memories and maybe go through the steps and travails I took to get this far. If I read it tonight, I should be able to write something up tomorrow.

Until then. If youre reading this and you yourself are an Immigrant in Norway, ask yourself, when is your Invaders day?

Rik

The Curious case of a lost F*&^ing wallet!

Yes thats right. On the way home from work, I left my wallet on the bus. Finding a distinct lack of bulge in my right pocket I did what most red-blooded males do. I freaking panicked. Ran around Oslo Sentrum chasing after buses like a demented canine. Finally saw sense and went to the local bus station only to remember that I forgot what the bus number had been!

Crap.

Well, writing it all off I counted the losses and went home, myself and my girl very damnably depressed Still its easier to deal with once you accept that there was nothing you could do.
Reaching home I went through the process of cancelling all my bank cards, taking advantage of the Norwegian 24hour stop system. Then, again, taking advantage of Norways massive trend of interenet banking, transferred money around so I could access it before 17th May celebrations!

Now all of this was going through the motions. But yesturday I recieved a very special phone call. Now this would never happen in England I'm mostly sure, but I recieved a phone call from a very excited bus driver who had found my wallet. Not only this, but she wanted to get it to me as soon as possible, trying to make arrangements to drop it off at my local station!

All of those days, chasing after a bus that leaves when your within inches of reaching the door has been forgiven! I cancelled my cards but hey, its the thought that counts right?

SO if you ever lose your wallet or "lommerbok", follow the following course:
1/ Cancel all bank cards via the internet or phone call. I would recommend that your mobile phone has such emergency numbers already on them.
2/ Contact your local bus terminal (or Traffikanten if your unsure), and tell them what bus you were on and when it was running. Sometimes apparently they can get the bus to drop it off the next time the driver comes by, if the wallet is found.
3/ Go back two days later to ask about it. Very often you will be given a set of numbers depending on what buses you had used, phoning these "lost and found" centers is a very direct approach.

Overall the experience of losing your important belongings is slightly different in Norway. Overall you are less likely to be frauded or have the cards taken, usually because such a safe system of stopping said cards exists. But dont panic, follow the above and you will be fine and writing blog posts about the ordeal in no time at all.

:)

And in other news...

I just realised right after finishing my last post some important things: -

1. I'm still waiting for my drivers license,
2. Soon I'm going on holiday... back home!
3. And, I've actually been here around 11 months as I arrived last June. Which means next month is my Immigrants Anniveresy! How to celebrate...

Drivers License.

Using the ever helpful services of Biltilsynet, I decided a while ago to change my English drivers license into a Norwegian one. Time was against me, as at the time I had but a few days to send it back to England for a new picture. Which, I was told by someone official in England, was pointless as I was living abroad. So, I quickly rushed over to my local Vei Vesson (sp?) to hand in my details. That was about nearly two months ago... I really should find out how that went!

A holiday back home.

From the very first moment my foreign feet touched tarmac at Torp airport I dreamed of using the Norwegian wage to fund a mass spending spree holiday back in England. Fate as it would seem, thought this would be fun too and thanks to the current climate pretty soon I "should" be returning to England with some money to buy things either unavailable (Read Aunt Bessies Yorkshire Puddings) or a damn sight cheaper in England (Read just about everything!). They say no plan ever survives contact with the enemy. I'll let you know how that goes. :)

Immigrants Annivserery? That and other traditions coming soon!

My family has never been one for traditions. Not because of some high brow sense of place, nor any form of spartan thinking, oh no, my folks came from Huyton Mofo! >:) However, since coming to Norway I can't help but feel rather than lacking, and rather than taking pølse off children every 17th May etc I feel its my responsibility to me and my own to establish some new traditions. This is after all a land filled with them. Here, a man can shamelessly wave the Union Jack without connotations to white skinned cueball headed neo-natzis and allround jew hating scum bags. Here, a man can actually explore what remains of English culture, the way he was meant to: by comparing it to other culture with a sense of dark witted arrogance. "I want my cup of tea in a CUP, not a GLASS, with MILK and a ton of SUGER! If it doesnt give me diabeties it don't count!"

So. Upon finding out that I had nearly been here a year, I decided very quickly that it was call for a celebration. Well, at least a reason to get drunk anyway (By the way has anyone seen what happens when you say to a Nord "I hope you get adequatly drunk?" Wierd.). More importantly, this concept couldnt be selfishly kept, oh no!

SO! My ExPatriot and soon to be ExPatriot friends! I call to you! If you have survived the culture shock, the Cuisine Le Anglais food crisis that is to be without proper gravy, the horribly and sensibly priced alchohol, the over bearingly polite to pedestrain drivers, TEA IN GLASSES, if you have survived a year, be it your first or another, celebrate. If we celebrate surviving a year on our birthday, surely this advancement in the survival process requires something extra. But wait! This day requires a name! Something catchy and memorable, that demands songs and antics that can be handed down to new arrivals.

Ideas?

Where to begin.... Again. (Language rant)

It occured to me recently (About five minutes ago actually), that learning a language feels like running a circuit. Yeah, lets go with that analoge for now. That circuit represents all of the knowledge you can accumulate in say a month. If its too big, you will probably fall over and die of a heart attack (analogy!), so keeping it small at first is good: Say so many words, so many grammital wotnots etc. Once you can run that circuit you make it a little bigger.

Where am I going with this? Around in circles. But not it seems in a bad way. Many Language coarses prech repetition. Remember the lines you had to write on the board in school, a hundred times: I will not put an angry cat in teachers bag? (What just me?). What you might of experienced there was the most basic form of education, kinesthetic learning. IE learning by physically doing it. My late French teacher once said that all things could be memorised by three simple steps. Reading, saying and writing it down, over and over again. Unless you accidently become an adept scribe, great at copying written works without actually reading them, it should help. many special needs kids go through this and hell if it works for them it works for you.

But I digress. What am I ranting about now? I have been here for around 9 months now and counting. I have achieved arguable quite a lot in terms of language acquisition it seems. However, even now I still screw up the most basic of things.

Pose. Bag. Vil du få en pose? Would you like a bag? I say it a lot in my current job and dear god how I am sick of getting it wrong. Having a customer standing infront of you wondering god knows what. (Would you like a pause with that? Would you like a pussy cat?) The problem lies in the utterances. The vowel O can be said in many different ways thanks to many languages and dialects, slangs and candences. WTF eva. Where I come from, we don't use that particular vowel sound required to say the word bag in Norwegian!! So, I must practice making a funny face while I try to make that sound that my ears are not trained to hear and my mouth it seems is not trained to make. Yet there is hope. Today, my readers. I said it right. I did a little dance! Im telling my those who read my blog even. I dont expect any of you to understand but I kind of hope one day you might.

So what advice can I give from this experience? That those circuits I talked of always return to the starting block? That no matter how good you get, revision is required? hard truth Im afraid.

Try this. http://www.omniglot.com/writing/norwegian.htm

The guy to writes on this website has learned about 8 languages fluently and countless as a side project. But this page describes Norwegian and even lets you listen to the alphabet and those pesky dipthong thingies. Say them along as you hear it. Leave it a day, go back and see if you can say the letter sounds a minisecond before they do. Are you right? If you leave it another day do you get better?

Bottom line is, if you can remember the alphabet. You CAN learn the language.

/Rant.

Thanks for reading.