God tur!

Winter came on Halloween. We had a howling snowstorm that left a couple of inches of snow on the ground. I tried to be Norwegian and go out walking in it. I came back with a wet sheen all over my coat and my face and everything else. Halloween night I went out with Lisa and her miniature family (sister + lover, as I guess Wes likes to introduce himself these days) to see Sleepy Hollow, which one of the student organizations was showing (with free chips!). I like Johnny Depp. Even if I did have trouble sleeping that night. (I'm not chicken, I'm just sensitive! It's charming!)

So, yeah, now it's cold out there. And it gets dark very early. And earlier all the time. And in honor of my 3 month anniversary in Norway, I got sick again. With what, I don't know.

I have pictures of the snow, but I forgot to load them up before I took the train to use the internet, as I have to do these days. They're coming, they're coming, I promise!

I'm going to miss more class to travel to Bergen next Monday and Tuesday. I'm not sure that's a good idea, but I'm going to do it anyway. Most of my classes are done in three weeks or so. I guess that's exciting.

In other news, I'm in love with this whole I'm from Barcelona thing. During the cold, cold winter, far away from many of my friends, I really need a Swedish guy and his buddies singing happy songs about stamp collections and tree houses. I mean, who wouldn't?

I promise a more focused and entertaining post later (with visuals!). It had just been awhile, so I wanted to make sure you all knew I wasn't dead. Oh, and I'm returning to the States for Christmas. Just so you know.

... and it's certainly not finished, but I'm not feeling very prose-y today. And this way you can see how Norway is getting to me. It has no title, which is a big no-no. Maybe you can suggest one!

Her umbrella looks like the bones of a bat
with wing skins flapping in the cold rain.
For weeks, the frenzied music of an accordion player
has followed her around the city, as if her whole life
were lived under a circus tent. Today, he wears
a stocking cap and winks at the girls who rush by
on their way to the platform, angling for an extra
five kroner. Forty years now the traincars
have been red with a blue stripe down the side,
a rushing national flag. Slowly the city spits out
sleek gray carriages instead, with doors that open
silently, like portals to a faster world. A black cat
dripping with tiny beads of water runs her body
along the girl’s black boot. Then she rubs herself
against the pant leg of the boy standing next to her.
It’s almost promiscuous, this gesture, and the girl
puts up her hood to keep the boy from picking up
this thought as it exits her ears. She watches the cat
tip herself down onto the track, step over the rails,
and spring back onto the other side. Three, maybe four
days now, and no sun. It’s only October—
weeks before we live through the longest night
of the year. She braces her boots against the platform
as if she can actually feel the planet tilting more sharply
than in any place she’s lived before. Meanwhile,
the cat and the accordion player enjoy the rain.