Magnificent cabin weekend--our intro to Norway

But first, a little about getting there. Our trip from Vladivostok began auspiciously when the Korean Air agent Dan had mentioned (he of the excellent English) did not bat an eyelish in response to our saying we had four bags. We had expended a certain amount of anxiety, Stateside, on the issue of baggage allowances. The flight from Vlad to Seoul and from Seoul to Amsterdam was supposed to allow only one 20 kilo bag for each of us, and a rather small piece of hand luggage. So much for the difference between theory and practice. We had not looked forward to repacking our worldly goods in the Vlad airport and giving them to our son and daughter-in-law--until we saw the latter two again (maybe in Norway, if they decide to visit, maybe later... much, much, later). Incidentally, water bottles also accompanied passengers from Vlad--right onto the plane. Got the impression no one cared! A total contrast to our experience later on in Munich (where every compartment and item in the many compartments of my stuffed flight bag was thoroughly examined). Anyway, we breathed a sigh of relief.

The Russian turista that hit me during the latter part of the Seoul to Amsterdam flight was less auspicious. Suffice it to say that I ignored several stewards' barked orders to stay in your seat!

Our trip from Amsterdam (after a night in a hotel there) to Oslo was, thankfully, easy and pleasant in our leased Europe-by-Car Peugeot. Spent a night in Kolding, Denmark en route, then decided to chill for a day in Goteborg, Sweden, just aimlessing around, and so spent a couple of nights there. Enjoyed a conversation at our breakfast table, with a Swedish psychologist who was attending a convention of neuropsychologists in Goteborg. She told us an anecdote about the Swedish Prime Minister, who, after meeting George Bush, said: "George Bush is not stupid. He's just very unlucky when he is thinking." Anyone know if that made it into the news anywhere?

After just a couple of days getting adjusted to our rented house in Oslo, we set off on Friday afternoon for a weekend with our friend, Halvard (and his son Nikolai), at his "cabin," or, as I learned it is called in Norwegian, his hytte. Heidi was able to join us on Saturday. When Halvard first mentioned inviting us to the "cabin," I braced myself for an outhouse, no indoor plumbing, water from a well, and lanterns, not to mention sleeping bags. I think my model was the cabin of her childhood summers my friend Betsy often described to me--in the Michigan woods--about which she had very fond memories. (I plead my totally urban New York childhood for a certain lack of enthusiasm for such a place.) When I gingerly asked Halvard if we'd need, say, sleeping bags, he told me the cabin had "all amenties." But I wasn't prepared for how comfortable and charming the place is. Interestingly enough, one of the participants at an Oslo conference on "Performing Nature at the World's Ends" that I later went to one day of, with David, was on "Holiday Practices and Norwegian 'Hytte.'" The dictionary gives a definition of "shack, hut, cottage." When I saw Halvard's, however, I told him it seemed more like a "chalet." Catch that picture of the dining area!

Halvard and Heidi's cabin is very close to the very huge Lake Nisser in Norway's Telemark region. This is one of the most pristine and stunning natural environments we have ever experienced. I mean "stunning" in quite a literal way. Looking out at the lake from my chair in front of the cabin, I really did feel awestruck, unable to take my eyes away.

The weather was fresh and invigorating, windy at times. We took a short walk around part of a higher smaller lake, Lytingsvatnet, as well as a brief jaunt down to a place on Nisser where Halvard and his family swim (too cold this time). There were blueberries and red currants on our path as well as some very exotic looking mushrooms (including some definitely poisonous ones identified by Heidi). The rocks were covered in lichen collages. We also accompanied Halvard on the neighborly task of bailing water out of a wooden boat seemingly uncared for by its owner. The boat is moored near Halvard's fiberglass one; intriguing-- it's made out of overlapping planks in the Viking manner, and apparently also has a square sail, as did the much much larger Viking ships (which we saw in the Viking Ship Museum in Oslo a week or so later).

I am now trying to get into a writing rhythm. It does take a while to adjust to a new country, landscape, house, desk, view. It is a little lonely, too. Since we've been away from home, I have had several enheartening poem acceptances (nothing like acceptances!!!!), though it's been a little crazy trying to keep up with my submissions. I've loaded most of the relevant files on my laptop, but there's always that one that got away, not to mention the hard copies I don't have at all, my attempt to save money by not using too much paper here (where prices for everything are shocking), etc. etc.