‘wegian Wednesday


Early on while learning Norwegian I realized it has, like many languages, its own set of quirks and things that make you pause and take a closer look. One of the first among these was the word “gift” (pronounced “yift”).

One definition of the word is “poison”.

Another is “married”.

What does that say about Norwegians and their views on marriage? Likely nothing but it does make you think.

This Will Come In Handy When?

We’ve all read guidebooks that include handy phrases for when you’re vacationing in some far off exotic place. Or maybe taken a language course/used an app that introduces you to helpful expressions you can sprinkle in conversations to sound more like a native speaker.

I’ve been puttering about with Duolingo for a bit now and while I find it a fun way to expand my Norwegian skills I’ve been noticing an odd trend among what they seem to consider “helpful phrases”.

Case in point:



And then I came across this:


Kudos to whoever is in charge of the Norwegian division of Duolingo.

I’ll keep y’all updated if I come across any more clues regarding the body on the floor.

A Few Thoughts on Running


This is my running jar. Every time I lace up and get outside and run I add another stone. As you can see it’s time for another jar.

Back in august of 2016 I laced up some runners, went outside and started on the C25K journey. The first day was the worst. Mostly before actually starting it and because my brain kept coming up with new and exciting ways I would fail.

But I didn’t fail. (Take that, brain.)

The newest stone in the jar is a bit special because it commemorates my 75th run. I’ve breezed through warm days with the sun on my face. I’ve plodded along on rainy days with almost frozen drops pelting me. I’ve schlepped over snow covered paths convinced any second I’d wind up slipping on a hidden bit of ice.


These are the running pants I wear most days. They started off with crisp reflective stripes down one leg and now they’re looking a bit worse for wear. I pretend that what I always liked to think of as my racing stripes have worn off from the high velocity breezes that they’re subjected to when I run.

The going has at times been hard (and still is to be honest) but at the end of each run, as sweat is pouring down my face, I can’t help but smile.

A more in depth review of my C25K experience is in the works and any time anyone wants join in with their own experiences I would love that!

Norway Is Closed

2016_07_28_ closed_for_july

“We’re closed for the summer”


As July comes to an end you’ll notice some stores that have been closed for what may seem like ages, will throw open their doors, ready to welcome you back again. The construction site one street over will greet your still sleep weary brain with the dulcet sounds of drilling, digging and dynamiting.

Norwegians enjoy an almost silly amount of paid vacation time and it’s refreshing to see that a majority of people actually take it. In Canada most employees are entitled to two weeks vacation though it’s common for a lot of people to not take that time off from work. And from what I hear it’s even worse in the US.

So every year, come July, don’t be surprised to find your favourite store closed for a few weeks, or the painters you had hoped would slap a fresh coat on your house unavailable until early August.

It takes some getting used to but I’m happy it’s the norm here.

Where Am I Again?

I saw her across the street, walking briskly past the empty store. She seemed familiar. Although she had large sunglasses on I could swear I knew her. Her hair, her gait and the way she held herself strongly upright, no hint of a slouch. So familiar yet so hard to place. As she turned the corner I finally made the connection. Or so I thought.

When I moved to Norway from Canada I expected to have to get used to things being a bit different. Shopping at stores that didn’t have quite the exact items I wanted. Feeling a bit disoriented while walking about in a new (to me) town. Sounding clumsy when attempting a new language.

What I didn’t expect was to occasionally feel a brief instant of not being able to pin down where I knew someone from.

Not in the sense of were they someone I actually knew versus someone who only looked like someone I knew. I mean in the sense of what continent did I know them from.



It can be a bit harrowing at the best of times when you’re approaching someone on the street and you’re wondering if you should give them a quick wave or will they think you’re a bit batty. Who is this stranger waving at me?

It’s a completely different feeling when you can’t even place which country you may or may not know this person from.

I wonder if there’s a an actual word for that feeling.

Anybody else experience this? It can’t just be me, can it?