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God tur!

Journeying beyond the Scandinavian countries.

Sister City Hilarity

Saturday, January 26, 2008

To understand this story, you have to know that I spent a good part of last week in Kenmare, North Dakota, the town where my dad grew up. As I was waiting around the airport in Minot, ND, I noticed a glass case housing a display in honor of Minot's "sister city," which just happens to be Skien, Norway.

The case contained a really fat troll in a weird outfit, a big print of a national romantic painting depicting the Birkebeiners, several advertisements for Minot's annual Norwegian fall festival (Høstfestival), and a variety of other quaint items of vaguely Norwegian origin. My favorite, though, was this little tiny bottle of perfume, about 1/3 full. Behind the bottle was a poster of an overly quaffed man who was apparently Geir Ness, a "Norwegian fragrance designer." I can't really remember the name of the perfume, I'm pretty sure it was a woman's name, but the perfume was sub-named (I guess you could say) "the essence of Norway."

This got me thinking, if you were to put all things "essentially Norwegian" into a scent, what exactly would that scent consist of? Hm ... I might volunteer sea salt, whatever that characteristic smell is in every Norwegian grocery store I've ever been in, some form of coniferous tree (cliche, but certainly "essential") ... I guess for me it would also include the general smell of the UiO campus, particularly the dining locations and the basement of the humanities library ... pilsner, absolutely. Um, what else? Hot dogs and possibly fried onion ... Bad coffee. I am open to any suggestions others might have. (Simon, I'm counting on your participation.)

Now that I'm back in Nebraska, I present to you ...

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

a list of Midwestern phrases involving the word "pretty":

1. "pretty darn" (a nice all-purpose adverb)
2. "pretty good" (standard answer to the question "How are you?")
3. "pritneer" (a Grandma classic, short for "pretty near")
4. "pretty cold out there" (it's january, 'nuff said)
5. "pretty humid out there" (for june-september)
6. "pretty tired"
7. "pretty weird" (a phrase of the younger generation, but I use it ... well,
8. "pretty often"
9. "pretty well" (as in "They finished that one up pretty well", can be serious or sarcastic, and it's hard to tell the difference)
10. "pretty well" (adverb, as in "He was pretty well fed up with that nonsense.")
10. "pretty much" (as in "They were pretty much ready to run right out of there.")

Feel free to add to this list, and may I add that in any of these phrases, "pretty" should probably come out sounding more like "purty."

*This is in no way a parody of some random cast of characters I run into when I'm at home; I have been known to use these phrases myself, particularly as my voice descends into this kind of perpetual low mumble that always starts coming out of my mouth once I cross state lines. It is a strange and powerful compulsion, believe you me.

Monday, January 21, 2008

The most fond memory I have of my grandfather is one evening when I was maybe 16. My family was in North Dakota for a visit, and for some reason my parents went out, and my grandpa and I were left alone for a few hours. He decided we should make blueberry muffins together. He didn't seem too confidant about following the instructions on the box himself, so I did the reading and the measuring. Actually, I'm not sure what he did, other than maybe turn the oven on. He was playing a recording of his quartet for me. I can't remember what hymn they were singing, but I remember his tenor voice--warbly but sweet, and I remember the kitchen humid in the North Dakota summer. I don't know if I really had the opportunity to be alone with him at any other time in my life. So it's a good memory, and a special one. And tomorrow morning, I think I'll have a blueberry muffin in its honor.

Sunday, January 20, 2008

I've just realized I had social engagements the past 3 nights in a row and am pleasantly surprised by the fact. Hm. On the scale of Lame, Lamer, Lamest, I may be edging up towards lame. Yay for me!