Norway

August 2000

When I was 11 years old, my fabled Grandma and Grandpa Tutu took my brother and me to a family reunion in Norway. Both of my grandparents grew up in Norway and met on the boat on the way to America. I don't quite remember how long we stayed there, but we went up and down the country visiting relatives and ended up sleeping in the car during their visits a lot of the time from jet lag. Many Norwegians knew English, thank goodness, so we could converse fairly well. My very first impression of Norway was made when I realized you are never allowed to turn right when the stoplight is red. Safety first.

One of the places we stayed at belonged to a relative of some kind who was very old but very fit and looked at least 20 years younger than he was. He built beautiful, quality log homes for a living, as well as a small hut outside his own home just for my brother and I to stay in while we were there, which fit two single beds and a nightstand. He built his own home, which featured a hot tub sunken in flush to the floor in middle of the living room. We got to use it with bubble bath solution and it overflowed with bubbles enough that I had a hard time peeking my face out over the mass of it.

We played soccer with some distant cousins on a field outside a cottage with a barn and boysenberry farm residing on an island called Kalvøya ("Calf Island") whose only road into it closed up with the rising tide. That may have been my favorite place. Looking at an aerial map of it today makes me question this memory, but a lot of things can change in 14 years. Kalvøya also happened to be the first place I ever tasted Nutella, my one true love, my dear, my only. Since I had learned numbers up to ten in Norwegian, I helped my grandma dial the telephone to call relatives as she read out the numbers to me in Norwegian. En, tu, tre, fita, fem, secs, sieve, otta, ni, ti. 

We also attempted to swim in a fjord at some point, but it was so desperately cold even in the summer that all I could do was dip my toe in and yelp. I envied a group of native boys who jumped in off of a boulder without even thinking about it. The indoor pool halls were much more appropriate for me, though I managed to slip on the tile climbing out of the pool and my right elbow landed on grout only to start bleeding profusely everywhere and it took days for my elbow to be insensitive to the slightest pressure. I still have the scar to this day. 

We had boat rides through the fjords, visited the famous Vigeland Sculpture Park (ever seen the meme with the guy throwing/kicking babies off of himself?), a dog show one of my relatives participated in with her canine, the Norwegian Royal Palace in Oslo, and were often served a Norwegian delicacy that tasted like it was really just a broth soup with hot dogs in it. It was really delicious for kids though as you can probably imagine.