I thought today how one can say in two words about one’s life “before that,” i.e. before arriving in Norway, and already now, living here. So then: “before that,” i.e. in the CIS — HARD! And after, i.e. in Norway — DIFFICULT!

In the previous part I wrote a little about the difficulties in everyday life. And yesterday my husband asked what I am writing about now. And then I understood that just as simply as I wrote in my native language, I will not be able to tell him in Norwegian, because he may “understand me wrongly.” Well, of course, I retold schematically what I am writing about, but I feel that I have no right to write about “all the skeletons.” So I will write about myself.

At first I thought: “I’ll learn the language, legalise my diplomas, find work…. and in parallel,” of course, I was putting the house in order, abandoned by the previous mistress. Since in the homeland some people called me a “minimalist.” Well yes! A minimalist! I had lived my whole life in a limited space, had the habit of getting rid of superfluous things and not accumulating junk, so having moved into the house I started actively “clearing it out” with the silent consent of the household. In general, I rake, and “they” throw it on again.

I understood that before me “they” did not try to look for missing things and details — they simply all jumped into the little car together and… went to the shop for…. a little nail or some little wire or for socks…

I started thinking how to train an adult dog to its place. In the living room carpets were laid everywhere. And when in the evenings we drank tea at the coffee table and watched the news, our four-legged shaggy friend would walk around the coffee table and actively wave his fluffy tail near my cup. I solved this question very simply: I took away the carpet from under the coffee table, because the floor was slippery for his paws, he stopped going there, and simply sat 3 m away from us on “his” carpet and greatly envied the cat, who had a place on the sofa, next to us! But, as the French say: c’est la vie. (and maybe they don’t even say it any more…).

Often our evening tea was interrupted by a phone call from one or both daughters at once, to pick them up from some Norwegian point A. And that is still nothing, if “over tea.” More often it was when Ivan was already asleep… He had to interrupt his sweet sleep, and mine along with it, and go…

Now I “return,” as the English say, “to our sheep,” i.e. “to myself,” they say I-history… So then, from all sorts of sorrows I was saved by my hobby — knitting, singing in the church choir, and playing the piano. And of course, the swimming pool. To the pool and to the choir one had to go by car to town, again Ivan drove me.

At first I thought: half a year will pass and I will be able to exchange my Ukrainian international driving licence for a Norwegian one. But no such luck! Until 2007 it was possible, Norwegians believed in our skilful driving, and then they lost faith and compiled a long list of countries, those arriving from which must take a full course of training and sit an exam for a driving licence. That’s how it is!

“Learn the words and terms, Ira!” I said to myself, and Ivan bought me for 300 kroner (30 euros) a thick textbook on the theory of driving a car in Norwegian, which became my bedside book for a “bright” future!

To be continued…..