Goodbye, Blighty.

After a wonderful visit to Winchester, Canterbury, Calais, and Oostende with dear friends, and a marvelous last day in Leatherhead with family, it is time for me to say goodbye to England, and to Norway, and to this whole European adventure... for now. Rest assured, I will be back. ;)

A summary update with plenty of photographs will follow once I'm back on American soil.

Goodbye. <3

A thousand apologies!

It's been forever since I even thought about updating this thing, and I guess that is due in part to the fact that I don't really feel like I'm "abroad" anymore. I guess you could say that England is in my blood; coming here feels a bit like coming home.

I do have photographs to post from my adventures mostly around Surrey, a trip into London, and a day return to Cambridge, but I'll have to pry them off my blackberry when it is feeling more cooperative; at the moment it has declared war on me and barely dials out on command, let alone gives up my photographs. It is a little surreal to me that this month has flown by as quickly as it has, but even more surreal that the past seven months have breezed past me at such speed. I still feel, in some ways, like I just left for Oslo yesterday--not as though I have spent the last half year there becoming an Akerhus kommune resident and local. And of course my time in England never seems to last as long as I want it to... something I will hopefully remedy here in the coming years with any luck. ;)

This is my last week of traveling abroad, at least for now. Tomorrow, I go to Winchester to visit my dear friend Von, and we'll take a daytrip down to Calais to bother the French and do a little bit of shopping for things I don't need. I'll probably write one more entry before going back to the US, but I think this blog is winding down at this point. Should I continue it when I get home? I might, if I do some traveling within the states.

Hadet bra. <3

Hello, 100th blog entry!

Now that that is over with, I'll quickly hit what I've been up to this week with bullet points:

• Aunt Jackie and I had a wander around Wisley, which is part of the National Trust here in England. Very beautiful gardens, and a lovely lunch on the patio; cool breeze, too.
• Drove down to Brighton with Uncle Pete on Wednesday, had a wander through the Lanes, enjoyed my first Cornish pasty since 2008 (!) and visited the same pub twice for comparatively cheap rosé and a pint.
• Went down to the stables to visit my cousin Tor's horse Tonto on two different occasions. The Surrey countryside is really something special, I've taken some photos on my blackberry and should upload them soon.
• Visited my cousin Gemma's new house, felt exceedingly domestic myself, should redecorate when I get home.
• Today I went with both Uncle Pete and Aunt Jackie up to Polesden Lacey, an estate that now belongs to the National Trust, but has a pretty fascinating history behind it. Mrs. Greville was the illegitimate daughter of a wealthy brewer who, when he passed away, had no other children to inherit his wealth. So he left her an absurd amount of money, and Polesden Lacey was the result of that money: gorgeous bit of property in the Surrey countryside, where she played hostess to royalty as well as foreign dignitaries including Woodrow Wilson. It's a bit sad, one of the curators was saying, that she didn't become a lady, and I'd like to look up more about her when I get the time.
• Took a drive through the countryside in my uncle's MG, blazing down the motorway with insufficient safety trappings. It was pretty exciting! (Please don't kill my uncle, Mum, Dad.)

Not sure what's on for tomorrow, but I'm sure we'll sort something out. I'm honestly enjoying just taking things as they come day by day; I'm enjoying the quality time with family.

Hei fra England.

It feels unreal, to me, that I'm not going back to my little corner of Oslo in Kringsjå, but I'm adjusting. I enjoy being back in England.

My last day in Oslo couldn't have been more perfect, however. I made a point of getting up early to finish tidying up my room, throwing the last of my rubbish into my two (stuffed beyond capacity) suitcases, then began the arduous journey from Kringsjå studentby to Oslo Sentralstasjon. It was quite an ordeal lugging both those heavy cases (one weighing 22 kilos, the other 32 kilos, I later discovered) uphill to the Kringsjå T-bane platform, and in retrospect I find it almost laughable the number of able-bodied people who walked past me without looking at me, much less offering to help. If I'd been in America, I later discussed with a friend at church, I would've had people tripping over themselves to help me, but Norway is a country full of very self-sufficient, independent people, so I wasn't bothered or offended. ...still, it would've been nice to have someone lend a hand.

And someone did! While on the train, I bumped into Mike--no, not Minnesota Mike, but Idaho Mike from St. Edmund's--who very kindly helped me transport my luggage to the storage lockers at central station. After that, we walked to church for my last service at St. Edmund's, where I said my goodbyes to all the parishioners; to Rev. Janet who has been so kind to me, to Shannon and Barbara who have been so good about letting me help out with the tea and coffee, to Trond who I only really started speaking to right towards the end of my stay here (sad!), to Geraldine... Honestly, the list goes on and on. Walking out of that church was so difficult for me, but I know I'll be back.

I spent the rest of the afternoon just going around the city. The day before, I'd taken line 3 to Mortensrud just out of curiosity (and found a very nice baguette shop), and so on Sunday I decided to revisit some of my favorite places throughout the city. I wandered down through Nationaltheatret basking in the sunshine and taking some photographs on my blackberry, since I'd already stowed my camera with my luggage, then headed up Karl Johans gate to the palace. I had quite a lot of time to kill before my flight, so I just... napped in the sunshine in the palace gardens, listening to my iPod and enjoying the sunshine.

My Flytog ride was a little emotional, though I managed to keep from crying--mostly because my luggage kept deciding to roll away from me, and I had to dive out of my seat on multiple occasions to try to stow it better. (The two Danes sitting in the seats across from mine chimed in helpful suggestions in Danish, but I think they were mostly just drunk and wanted a laugh at my expense. Meanies.) But that aside, my flight over was pretty nice and uneventful, and our pilot was pretty cheeky, describing our flight from Oslo to London Heathrow as "one hour and fifty-five minutes of action-packed excitement, starting with this riveting security film provided by BA for your entertainment. And safety as well, I suppose." (A bit paraphrased, but that's the gist of it.) I love flying BA. :)

Also: Sitting next to me on the plane was a young Norwegian boy with his grandmother; this was his first trip out of Norway, so when the plane started making its descent, I offered to switch places with him so he could get his first look at London. I think his grandmother really appreciated the gesture, and it tugged at my heart strings a little bit watching this kid, who was only a little older than I was when I had my first proper visit out of the US and back to England, gazing in awe out the window. Seemed fitting somehow.

Uncle Pete met me at the arrivals gate which was lovely, and I came home and crashed after staying up a bit talking with Aunt Jackie. Today we took a tour of Wisley Gardens, somewhere I will go back to later with my camera so I can photograph everything that stands still long enough, but tomorrow I plan to have a bit of a domestic day just doing laundry and getting myself settled into my room here for the next month. Truly, I am glad to be in England, but I don't expect this ache in my heart for Oslo is going to go away anytime soon. I fell in love with the city.

It's hard not to.

A genuine, sincere farewell.

I have been keeping busy.

Actually, I think the more accurate phrasing of that statement is, I have been swamped by pre-departure work. Packing up six months of your life into two suitcases and a box to mail home is difficult, as you might surmise; I have already re-homed my space heater to some random student in Kringsjå, and have delivered Halliburton 2 the jade plant to Julia, who is happy to report that H2 is now good friends with Lily. I have high hopes for their future romance.

After saying goodbye to Tim and Mike at the Oslo S. train platform on Sunday, I was understandably depressed (and England's bombing out of the World Cup didn't help matters), but as the days have progressed, I've found that getting ready to leave has been strangely cathartic. I've been visiting sites around town for the last time, saying goodbye to friends who are still here, going out for the obligatory last beer at Olsens Cafe, even volunteering for my last shift as coffee and tea server at St. Edmund's on Sundays. I'll admit some relief to tying off these loose ends in my life here in Oslo, because it means when it comes time for me to lock the door to my room, haul my luggage up to the platform, and take the T-bane down to Jernbanetorget for the last time, it will seem like the logical, sensible end to things. Of course, I still expect to cry into my hands as I pop across the North Sea to England, but then I will be greeted by my Uncle Pete and the familiarity of Leatherhead and Ashtead, and I will start feeling better.

I don't know if I will update again before I leave Norway, so I will go ahead and make some remarks about the lasting impact of this country upon me while I'm thinking about it. First and foremost, I've gained immeasurable confidence in myself. I know I can live alone successfully in a foreign country, I know I can travel within that country, and I know I can travel outside of it as well. I know that wherever I am, I am amiable and personable enough that I can carve a niche for myself; I can make friends easily, I can become part of a community. Anywhere can become home for me. This was something I felt most scared of when coming here, to be honest--that I would travel thousands of miles only to discover that I had no friends and no connections, and that I would spend my time counting down the days to when I could come back to Huntsville. On the contrary, I know the sadness I felt in saying goodbye to my two best friends here in Norway was tied up in just how much happiness I felt while we were spending time together this year. I suppose this ties in well to one of my last realizations: that the magic of this experience was less about where I was--where I still am, until Sunday--and more about who I became.

What this country did for me, inside and out, through my clumsy (but improving!) attempts to speak Norwegian with the Turkish bakery owners at Forskningsparken T-banestasjon, through allowing me to befriend so many other international students from across Europe and around the world, through giving me the confidence to say, "Yes, I will go out tonight!" is something that has less to do with where Norway is in relation to the rest of the world, and more with how I now see that world. "White nights" at midnight here in Oslo, where the sky stays blue and the horizon glows like it is full of stars. The dazzlingly bright sunset in Bergen at 11:30pm, turning everything orange like it's on fire. The complete silence of the forests around Sognsvann, and me, just laying there in the moss taking in the sunlight, listening to the creeks babbling, watching shy red squirrels in the trees. The bustle of life down at Aker Brygge, cramped quarters on the T-bane, the tram, the bus. Kebab and børek smell, the "old book" smell in the antique shop in Old Kristiania, the fresh laundry smell that I've come to associate with new beginnings. It's the details of everyday life that leap out at me now and remind me, thrillingly, that I am alive, and that, in the words of one of St. Edmund's Colombian parishioners who has become so dear to me, "You are young, you have the passport, and you have the will. That is all you need. You can do anything!"

Norway liberated me--not from Huntsville, of course, but from myself. My own fear of inadequacy that have crippled me into inaction in the past, my fear of failing. These fears kept me from doing, but not anymore. Never again.

This country has set me free.

A real post is forthcoming. But for now...

Tim goes back to Holland in eight hours. Mike goes back to Minnesota in ten hours.

To briefly borrow Jennifer's words: This... is hard.

:(

Winding down.

All things considered, I'm having a lovely second-to-last week in my adopted home town; my friend Ben is visiting me all the way from Alabama, I'm watching copious amounts of World Cup football and overdosing on Wimbledon when on the internet, and I'm communicating lots with my family in Europe arranging my trips to visit them. It looks like my life will be made easiest if I just wait to book flights to see Sylvie and Eddie until I'm in England with my Uncle Peter; they can better instruct me on how to get from place to place.

I'm feeling listless and a little frightened about my future, which I think is to be expected after spending five years as a student, only to have that identity yanked from you once you've finished your studies. When I remember that come August I won't be returning to UAH for classes in Morton and Roberts Hall, I'm put a bit off-balance, but I think that ultimately this transition away from academia and into the world is good for me. When I was eighteen I had such a clear idea of what I wanted to do once I graduated; grad school was a certainty, not only in pursuit of a masters in English or history, but maybe even a PhD, and a future in a classroom surrounded by maps and textbooks and faculty meetings, etc. It is incredibly ironic to me that now at age twenty-three, with some considerable life experience at my disposal that should have given me more direction, I have less of an idea of what I want to do with my life than when I started out as a kid. I don't have the head for a masters or PhD program in history or literature--at least not right now--and I don't want to spend the rest of my life thinking about paper deadlines, critical book reviews, or whether or not my historical and literary analysis can compete with my colleague's. I don't want to look in the mirror every morning feeling as though my self-worth is entirely dependent on which institution published my dissertation... and more importantly, I'm not sure I have it in me to spend years on just one research subject. The anxiety and pressure of writing just one honors thesis was enough to render me completely immobile mentally; I think going after a dissertation would be an absolute disaster for me.

I guess there are simple things I want to do once I get home. I'd like to learn to garden; I'd like to get better at cooking and expand my spice rack; I'd like to get some serious work done on my writing project; I'd like to get involved in St. Thomas's in Huntsville; I'd like to swim in the Tennessee river, and go down to the Gulf to see if I can help clean up the filth on the beaches where I used to play as a child. I want to do things with my hands that produce a visible, tangible result. I'd like to leave more things to chance.

Just for a little while, I want to live a life without deadlines and less certainty. I think it will be good for me.