Norway

Part 2 “….AND FROM THIS MOMENT PLEASE, IN MORE DETAIL”. To write shortly and in detail, one has to think at leength and not be distracted, or even not react to the sun, which today is shining brightly “straight in the eye.” I decided to give it the subtitle “Everyday stuff.” In stories from past years I have already written how wonderfully I spent those almost 3 tourist months. I had to go back to my homeland when the visa ended. People close to me asked whether I talked with Ivan’s daughters, and in what language. ...

“…. AND FROM THIS MOMENT PLEASE IN MORE DETAIL !” I keep the blog with the help of my Norwegian husband. If it were not for his skill and knowledge of computers, I would hardly have bothered and written my “memoirs.” Once he asked what I write about. I even got confused; you cannot answer that in two words at once. I started saying that they are memories of the past, of my parents, of my homeland. “And have you written anything about our family?” — “Yes, but without particular details, as they say, I didn’t ‘air the dirty linen.’” He was even slightly surprised that there is nothing shameful in writing about jointly lived moments in relations with his daughters. ...

Such a sign — a reminder — hangs before the entrance to the showers at the pool we have been going to for four years already. But my overall unbroken swimming record is already 13 years. All my movements in preparing to swim have been worked out to automaticity. And that is what this automaticity led me to last Sunday. On Sundays my husband and I try to arrive at opening, at 10 o’clock. At that time there are few people; we each swim our own quota: my husband swims one and a half kilometres, and I 800 metres breaststroke. Going into the changing room I follow the rules — take off my shoes, go to the locker, undress neatly down to nothing, so as not to attract attention, say, of a 6-year-old boy whom his mother has brought into the women’s changing room (although the rules forbid this). But that happens, and no one bothers anyone or makes remarks. ...

The article has a tempting title: «Lokker med 300000 kroner om bygger hus i denne kommunen» (we attract people with 300 thousand kroner to build houses in this municipality). In the municipality of Iveland there live only 1,300 inhabitants. There is a school and a kindergarten. It is set in a picturesque place, but not on the coast. The mayor of the municipality, a young attractive woman, Gro-Anita Mykjåland, tells: in the 1970s the municipality numbered only 700 people, and in 2020 more than 1,300 inhabitants. ...

I do not want to quote the classic Mikhail Zadornov, but I cannot write it any other way: “Well, you dummies!” I will explain whom I addressed this to. Yesterday was Wednesday, and the Norwegian people made a shopping tour to Sweden, through the border crossing at Svinesund. I take it that Norwegians, without breaking their gastronomic shopping traditions before Easter, tore across the border in their cars to the Swedish town of Strömstad. ...

That is a word-for-word translation from Norwegian of an article in the local newspaper. Quarantine has spurred Norwegians into cleaning their homes and throwing out rubbish. Since there are a great many private houses in Norway, we sort the small rubbish into three bins of different colours, plus a special bag for plastic. Plastic bottles and drink cans we take to a special machine at the supermarket. Glass bottles and jars also have to be driven to the supermarket and thrown into a special container. ...

The present situation in Norway — the local population grabbing toilet paper as if it were the main staple of the Norwegian Kingdom — has pushed me into reflections on my distant past. Yes, imagine: it turns out I had a “difficult childhood,” and my tender places experienced the “bitterness” of Soviet newspapers! Yes! Every Soviet family subscribed to the newspaper Pravda. They “recommended” taking out a yearly subscription right at workplaces and institutions. There were special “members” of the party and the trade unions who handled subscriptions on the spot. ...

I am not a translator — I am only “learning,” but my “studies” with Norwegian will last until the end of my life. Oh well! Still, I do have a desire to read in Norwegian the little newspaper that my husband, early in the morning before he leaves for work, quietly brings me, without disturbing my sweet morning sleep. So I read, and I am not too lazy to open my dictionary, which weighs about as much as a brick. I have already written that I became a car enthusiast in Norway. And I continue to take an interest in the automobile theme. I can already tell a Mercedes from a Toyota, and I can even name the latest Tesla models. 🤣 But closer to the point! ...

With such a headline I read an article in Agderposten for 19 December. Of course I became interested: “and how is it in Norwegian schools?” The theme is not alien to me, since I myself worked 8.5 years in a school (for me that was enough). The article is about Arendal kommune. This kommune is large, it includes 15 settlements and accordingly 15 schools (in the newspaper a diagram is placed). I will not write many figures from the article, but the fact is that the number of pupils is shrinking every year. ...

Once you write or say “tomorrow” — consider it lost! A nasty word. Equal to unfulfilled promises and collapsed hopes. Today it is as much as 13 December, in Norway a religious holiday, Saint Lucy’s Day. I am watching Norwegian TV now, a morning programme, similar to Russian TV. Only a tiny bit similar. What television has in common is only the screen! On Saint Lucy’s Day children in kindergartens from early morning are dressed in white robes, they are belted, on their heads little wreaths with gold leaves, in their hands candles, and they arrange a procession through dark streets with the song Santa Lucia. Now snow in Norway is only in the northern part, and mainly it is rain, and they showed a report “live,” and in Ukrainian there is a colourful word “NAZHYVO” 😂. And so this nazhyvo, little children in long white clothes with candles walk in the rain, through puddles and sing songs. A very touching spectacle. ...