An introduction to May

Every Norwegian is looking forward to May. The most brilliant, spectacular and pleasing month of the entire year in Norway. As well as being the time of year when the "russ" party in the streets, the long cold, dark winter melts to warm, light summer, the flowers bloom and more skin is revealed for every day that passes, May is also the time you truly celebrate that you are a Norwegian.

Oh yes, you might say, May might be special, but the Norwegians indeed celebrate their Norwegian-ness everyday! Well that might not be entirely a lie, because we are indeed proud about being Norwegians, but May IS very special, very VERY special.

I might not have mentioned it, but what Norwegians enjoy more than to eat disgusting fish, talk about the weather, ski, brag about skiing, eat matpakke, brag about eating matpakke when skiing or brag about eating fish as their matpakke when skiing and talking about the weather, Norwegians love, absolutely adore, to beat the swedes.

And I'm serious. This isn't just some comradely jibe between neighbours, no, no, this is a bloody war I say. For every Olympic medal won over the Swedes, the trumpets salute an entire octave higher, because what that really means the most to us, is bragging about beating the Swedes.

Much like, dare I say, the way the Brits love to take the piss out of French people (now who doesn't love to do that, but I beg to differ and say that the Brits perhaps enjoy it a tad more).

And that's also a reason why May is so special. Because, on May 17th 1814 the Norwegians signed their own constitution and thereby freed themselves from the Swedes after being under their command for 434 years. The constitution wasn't just a clear liberation from the claws of evil Danes/Swedes, but also a riot against the Kiel agreement of the greater powers in Europe. Created January 15th the same year. That said that Norway should be given from Denmark to Sweden as loot from the war. The Norwegians didn't accept this and created a constitution. In the very first paragraph of our newly obtained constitution there was a declaration of independence. Obviously Norway didn't manage to break free until 1905(!), but by getting our own constitution Norway as a whole was gifted with a new, genuine spirit.

And so, because of May 17th - We were free! After hundreds of years hopping from Denmark to Sweden, we were no longer theirs to juggle with. We were free! We didn't just get independent, we beat the swedes too! Like a flippin bonus, if you know what I mean.

So every May 17th, no matter weather or stomach disorders, every Norwegian puts on their best suits and dresses (preferably a national costume (bunad)) We grab our flags and walk in long parades across the country.

And I don't believe anyone, not a single person but a Norwegian, could understand exactly how much May means to a Norwegian, because I know, and I'm going very nationalistic here: Complain about being a Norwegian, and living in "Snoreway" (which is true, cos nothing ever happens) but I really am, from the bottom of my toes to the top of my head, proud of being Norwegian.

(all pix taken by me on my trip to the mountains a few summers ago)

I'm going deaf! iiiiiiiiih


This is one of those emo-teenager-confidence-pepp-talk-songs that is there to make emo teenagers happy :(

but I'm not emo, I'm happy, so I become emo because I like it!

shitsong! Curse you! Curse you and the very stupid music video!

snap out of it!

snap and crackle
snap, crackle and pop
snap your fingers



snapping ruck-sack!

Easter retard



Good evening boys and girls, a very happy easter to you! How has your easter been? I'm getting very fat, like one is supposed to be when it's easter (duuh it's easter, pay attention please) wish you and your freaky family/friends and hang-alongs a very happy easter.
Be happy, be fat, have a fat and happy easter!
(in Norway you may use the word "fet" for something to be cool, like, "he is really fet" when the meaning of the word "fet" is actually fat. Norwegians have got it right, being fat is awesome).

Congratulations on getting your eyes raped.
(there is no such thing as rape only surprise sex)


United Bakeries

I was there yesterday. And I had coffee, it was absolutely awesome! They had these huge piles of bread and buns, towering beside a chocolate fountain! In addition they had baskets with bread travelling from the bakery to the cashier along a powerline, like ski lifts! They also have the longest icecream selection in Norway, you heard me! The longest selection! They had all kinds of flavours! They also had a chocolate easter-egg, that weighed 25kg! They'll be auctioning it, and the money will go to some good cause somewhere.

Anyway, that was my commercial for United Bakeries, they were also friendly fun people that knew how to be of service! Cheers!



Wanted - a short bride!

I came over this while scanning the net for Bollywood music lyrics earlier :) (I purchased "Best Bollywood Hits Collection 9" when in Singapore last summer)

I really enjoyed it! very well written.
From: Ravi Ghoois Blog

Wanted- A Short Bride! by: Ravi Ghooi on May 13 2004 12:00AM in Romance

I never thought of myself as a short man. With my new high-heeled shoes, I stand about 5 ft and 5 inches tall. This, in my opinion, is the right height for a man. Most nice looking girls are less than 5'3”, and a person of 5'5” has a wide choice. But then, I went to Germany.

The vital statistics are somewhat lopsided in Europe and a majority of girls are over 5'8”, with quite a number above even 6 feet. A man of my height would have had better prospects in the University of Tokyo or Shanghai, but I had committed the blunder of choosing the University of Göttingen for my studies.
When this realization grew, I began to eye every girl with calibrated eyesight. After a long and laborious research into this vital statistic of girls, my eyes fell on Heiderung from the department of physiology. Heiderung (Heidi for short) was the answer to my prayers. My guardian angel seemed to guard me even beyond the shores of good old Bharat Mata.
Most un-Germanic in her looks, Heidi had black eyes and black hair (my favourite colour), but more important was that she stood around 5'2” in her pumps. I don't know what she weighed, but suffice it to say that weight was not a major concern. Luckily for me, she was quite an open and friendly girl, and she invited me for coffee after work at our first meeting.
I entered the cafeteria to find Heidi sitting alone at a corner table. Thanking my luck and my guardian angel, I made my way to her table and sat down.
"And, how are you?" I asked, immediately followed by, "What can I get you?"
"Don't worry," she said. "I have already ordered coffee and cakes for all of us."
I guessed that she was not good at English grammar and hence said "all of us" rather than "both of us". But then, one does not make a song and dance about grammar, especially when one is with a girl like Heidi.
She continued, "I am keen that you should meet Karl, my fiancé. He has a lot of interest in Indian culture and arts."
At this, a seventeen-foot giant appeared with three cups of coffee and a plate of cakes on a tray. My anger boiled over at this giant. He could choose almost any girl in the institute or the city. Did he have to choose the only one that fitted my specifications so snugly?
I do not recall another occasion when a slice of Black Forrest cake tasted like a lump of coal coated with a thin layer of chocolate.
Till today, I have not got over my dislike for people who are seventeen-feet tall. Heidi insisted that I attend her wedding and dance along with the rest of the guests. I did all that, all the while telling my guardian angel what I really thought of him, in choicest Punjabi.
Life continued in a lonely fashion, till one day I saw her in Hertie. Hertie is a supermarket, where I used to shop for my groceries and other needs. As I went down the aisle in search of pickles, I was pleasantly surprised to see this salesgirl hanging around in that area. She was short, may be just about 5'1” and trim. I thought she was very beautiful, but that was beside the point. Any girl less than 5'4” inches looked beautiful to me.
I wanted many Indian spices so that I could add taste to the otherwise tasteless German food. In order to visit this store and see the salesgirl again and again, I decided to pick up one spice every day.
"Excuse me, miss," I said to her.
She looked at me, her deep blue eyes showing a gamut of emotions and her mouth working up a steam to whisper something wonderful to me.
"She speak no English, only German," answered a tall, Teutonic beauty that hurried down to help us communicate. This is the trouble with Germany. When you are not searching for someone to translate for you, you will find hordes of translators around. Interpreters are scarce only when you search for them or really need them. Not only in Germany, I found the same problem in Denmark, Sweden, France and Italy.
The deal was conducted without the aid of the spoken word. After all, there are not many clarifications required when buying a pack of salt. Having established the commercial relationship, I withdrew, promising myself like General McArthur, "I will be back."
I was back the next day, and the next and the next. Buying chilly powder, pepper, turmeric powder, cumin seeds, cinnamon, cardamom, bay leaves, tamarind and nutmeg. Yes, I even bought nutmeg when I could think of nothing else. Every time I would ask Ina the German equivalent of the English name, which she would not understand, then we would jointly search the shelves. The search was very enjoyable.
When I was overstocked with spices, deviously I made her search for cumin seeds in the sauces' section of the store. Obviously, we did not find it, but then that was not my intention either.
Between coriander and cardamom, I learnt her name was Ina. By this time, I had picked up a little German and she was picking up English. We could communicate in bastardized versions of either language. Unfortunately, neither I knew the German word for 'date', nor did she show a way out of the deadlock.
One day, in need of pickles, I found my goddess of spices missing. Luckily, the helpful Teutonic beauty was around. I asked her where Ina was. She answered that she had been shifted to the clothing counter and was selling shirts. Come to think of it, I did need a few shirts, so I went to the shirts counter. She gave me a big smile of welcome. Pickles could wait.
"Ein hemd?" she asked. (One shirt?)
"Ja," I said. "Ein hemd, bitte."(Yes. A shirt please.)
I began my collection of shirts. Somewhere between the 5th and the 6th shirt, I found the exact word for invitation and dinner. So we had a quiet dinner at a Greek restaurant. To add to the fun of the party, we had a waitress who spoke neither German nor English. I also gave her (I mean Ina) my first present, a German-English dictionary.
My collection of shirts grew steadily. Sometimes I purchased a tie, for she looked after ties too. I must say she had the weirdest choice in ties, though she seemed sound about boyfriends. Her transfer soon to the suits department cut down my collection of shirts and ties. This was the costliest item she was selling and I was about to call it a day by the time I became the proud owner of three suits. After which I found her totally missing.
A number of exploratory visits to Hertie failed to show Ina. I searched her among ladies' shoes, men's nightwear, ladies' undergarments, toys, stationery, sports goods, magazines, wines, cheese, cold meats, fruits and vegetables, kitchenware, garden equipment, cosmetics and even the pets' section. But no Ina.
Now Hertie is a real supermarket. You could get anything there, from a safety pin to a tractor. Indian Pickles, Spanish Saffron, Scotch Whiskey, Australian Cheese, French Wine, Hungarian Goulash were available. But if there was any item that was missing from the inventory, it was Ina.
As I made another round of the entire market, my aching feet led me to the cafeteria. A hot coffee was what the doctor ordered, but beer tastes better, so it was beer with Bratwurst. As I sipped my poison, I found the Teutonic beauty sitting a table away.
The Teutonic beauty winked at me, and we began the usual casual conversation, “Guten abend.”
“Schön Guten abend.”
“Wie geht es?”
“Gut. Danke, und Sie?”
"Ouch Gut. Schön Wetter, Na?"
"Ja sicher."
One has to observe the formalities of courteous talk.
"Ina gone on holiday?"
"How you call it, after marriage, girl and boy go?"
I said the dreaded word. "Honeymoon?"
"Ja, honeymoon. I knowed it was to do with bees at night."
"Honeymoon?" I gulped again.
"Ja," she said. "Her chief very happy with her work. She make customers happy. He marry her."
I then realized that my mother's dream was to come true. While leaving for Germany, my mother told me of her dream, that I would marry a nice Maharashtrian girl. That very Maharashtrian girl now often asks me from where I purchased all those funny ties. So far, I have not told her. For, if I do so, I might have to look for another bride."

Comments from his blog.

Very cute story :)


Spring, spring is closing in, this means lots of fun and 1st of May (we have this day off school and work to mark Workers union stuff) 17th of May (the day in 1814 when we got our constitution aka. "independence day" aka. ice cream day) and of course, more importantly, the russ. I will add to this as May comes closer.

Because right now, it's still April! And the weather in Oslo is depressing. March 28th was official first day of spring (the day when the temperature would be on an average above 0 C) but still the traces of spring have been few.

To brighten up the runny mud, the rests of the polluted black snow, the naked trees and the gray sky, I thought I'd list all the things that indicate spring in Norway.
- the first flowers! Hestehov, blåklokke, skilla, hvitveis and krokus
- dry pavements
- icecream stands on Aker Brygge
- the trees are sprouting tiny green leaves
- the days are longer, the sun appears!
- people are happier
- you don't have to put so much clothes on when you leave the house
- mild, spring breezes
- drinking outside, in the forest, by the river
- walking the streets at night, with friends and drinks (May 1st)
- "fuler, og blomstej, og fajgej og sol" (Quote: Liv Elin, thank you for your inspiration <3) It means "bijds, and flowejs, and coloujs and sun" (birds, and flowers, and colours and sun).

and lots of lots of LOVE! ..... erhm.. and the snow melts.

Happy spring!
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