Saturday, April 30, 2011

Royal flush


Sneakers from Onitsuka Tiger (Asics). Not really the correct attire for such a royal weekend, but a girl needs to be practical sometimes.

I had it all lined up for Friday afternoon. My tiara was polished and ready. My Jimmy Choo strappy gold sandals were waiting on my bedside table. Mr. Incredible had scheduled the recording of the entire royal wedding for me on our PVR, before he went away for his annual soccer binge with the guys to Leeds (!). And I was picking up some pink champagne on my way home to meet up with my sister.

Unfortunately, things do not always turn out the way they are supposed to. I tried to schedule all meetings early in the day so that I could leave early to at least see SOME of the wedding live, but no. My message of "I need to leave the office by noon on Friday" was somehow suddenly interpreted as "Could I have that important client meeting postponed from 10 to noon on Friday". I seem to have some difficulties getting through to people sometimes. I am not sure what I am doing wrong.

So, instead of a glamorous Friday night spent with my sister sipping champagne and watching the union of William and "Waitie-Katie", it was spent with my sister - and a grilled chicken. By the time I got home from the office at six, my whole wedding mood was gone. Having a history of being a bit of a "Watie-Katie" myself, waiting ten long years for Mr. Incredible to FINALLY pop the question, I had really been looking forward to this wedding. Now all I got out of it was laughing hysterically at the wedding monogram of William and Catherine. W and C. WC. Classy.

The royal weekend did not end with the wedding. Saturday was the Dutch "Queen's Day" or "Konninginnedag". This day might not be so special to most Norwegians, but having a sister that used to be an exchange student at the University of Leiden - this day has become yet another perfectly plausible excuse for getting drunk.

We had all the ingredients:
  • Oranjebitter (weird Dutch remedy)
  • Poffertjes (mini pancakes)
  • Good company (me, sister, Ben & Jerry)
  • Sunny weather
I had one glass of the bitter, before I completely overdosed on icecream. And spent the rest of the evening on the sofa, recovering from my serious case of "brain freeze" and watching the Norwegian equivalent to "Saturday Night Live". We even forgot to eat the pancakes.

At 11 PM, I completed the changes on my tax returns online. An hour before the deadline.

What a party animal I am. Is this what it is like being an adult?

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Cyber-nesting


Have you EVER seen anything as cute as these? Totally useless, of course, as they tend to fall off your foot when you walk. And the surface - STRAW - is not particularly comfortable. Still, perfect for a day working from home in your pajama bottoms and a hoodie - when you need to add just a little bit of spark.

We are still waiting for the final date for the completion of our property transaction in France. Or - rather - "Frrrrrance", as we refer to it, as we seem to have acquired a funny accent lately. Being at our house is actually starting to turn into an episode of the TV series "'Allo 'Allo". Without the on-going war, that is.

There is just one tiny piece of paper missing before we can go ahead with the final "Compromis de Vente" now. Not that that has stopped me from starting to fill the house with bits and pieces already. Ohno. Shopping furniture online is extremely convenient. I now have full overview of the local furniture market around Cannes - Mandelieu. Apparently, all women have this talent for "nesting". Myself, I practically have a degree in "cyber-ne(s)tics" by now. Ha. Needless to say, all this shopping makes me extremely happy. To the extent that on some days when I walk down the street I just hope for one of those dancing music video "flash mobs" to turn up. So that I could blend in and do my little dance without anybody noticing.

For the time being, I am focusing on the important stuff, the things we would need to actually live in the house. Like garden furniture, a sofa and beds. Mr. Incredible finally had to give in, so there will be canopy beds in all bedrooms. I am such a hopeless romantic.

I lately discovered that although the duvet and pillow cases sold at H&M home are awfully cute, they are only available in Swedish sizes. OF course, the Swedish need to have pillows that are 10 cm narrower, and duvets that are 10 cm broader than EVERYONE else. I have never really noticed that Swedes are particularly fat and have tiny heads, have you, but maybe that is the case?

Speaking of Sweden. Yesterday I picked up the very important schnapps glasses for the house - from IKEA. (Did I mention that my father-in-law's middle name is "aquavit"?) I really wish IKEA had valet parking. Would make life SO MUCH EASIER. 

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Blue Suede Shoes


Ok. They are not really suede. But they are BLUE SHOES. Indeed. And I will be pretty upset if you STEP ON THEM. So, please don't. My third pair of Clarks Bombay Lights. I LOVE THESE SHOES. I am trying very hard to resist buying them in raspberry red. Especially now that there is a ballerina version of them available, too. In PATENT raspberry red. Even better. Yummie.

I'll tell you what. If I am a good girl and go to the gym three times this week, I will consider buying the red ones this weekend. You see, not to be bragging, but I have already been to the gym twice this week. And tomorrow I have an appointment with my my pre-wedding personal trainer, M. This is all the result of a pre-bikini-season panic that suddenly hit me hard on Monday morning, as I realized that an Easter diet consisting of chablis and chocolate fudge might not be the thing if you want to look fairly decent wearing a bikini.

I know I have told you before about my "slight aversion" towards going to the gym. I guess being a total looser during twelve years of mandatory PE lessons in school has scarred my soul beyond repair. In fact, there are so many things I hate about physical exercise that I could write a BOOK about it. This book will contain topics like:
  1. Lugging all my exercise gear along, in addition to my insanely heavy backpack containing my pre-cambrium work laptop.
  2. Actually SWEATING. I much prefer sweating on a sunbed with a glass of something cold and awesome, decadently swinging from my left hand (the right hand is at that time used to update Facebook status on iPhone).
  3. The foul smell of other people's sweat. Which seems to stick to the walls of these places. Yuk.
  4. All the MIRRORS. I did not get there to be reminded of how stupid I look after five seconds of something resembling exercise (freshly boiled lobster, anyone?). And I just cannot take looking at how some guys seem to get off enjoying their own reflection while flexing their muscles. Gah.
  5. Other people - part 1: Having to listen to the music the current PT victim has chosen for today's guilt-trip. Yesterday I had to watch a VERY caucasian management-type-of-guy (being a well-known mind-reader, I could tell how he believed he was an alfa-male) doing his forward lunges and squats to "Vato"* by Snoop Dog. IN-DA-HOOD, indeed!
  6. Other people - part 2: Having to listen to the two wise-guys on the treadmill next to me trying to dazzle each other with their vast knowledge while watching a trivia show on TV. NO, Mick Hucknall was NEVER the lead singer of INXS! Duh.
  7. Swimming at the deep end of the pool.
  8. I have the annoying habit of getting "sucked into" any movie within five seconds when zapping between channels. At my local gym they project "Fish - the movie" on the wall above the swimming pool. CONTINUOUSLY. For once I would actually be ok if we could zap on to something else. Please.
  9. Taking a shower, like - NAKED - with strangers. Mostly makes me feel inadequate, but in some cases even repulsed.
  10. Stepping in hair fallen off the above mentioned strangers' heads (I hope - as other alternatives would be even more disgusting), then getting these hair tangled in-between my toes. Yuk!
Fortunately, Mr. Incredible has bought me a membership at a non-stinky place with clean/non-hairy/separate shower stalls. With plush clean towels, deliciously smelling soap and shampoo, and - behold - HAIR CONDITIONER. When you add a jacuzzi, sunbeds and proper hairdryers, I almost look forward to going. At least I am out of excuses. And, after all the suffering, it does not feel too bad.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Welcome to the mountain


My cross-country ski boots. From last century, but as I am not much of a cross-country skier, these will NEVER be worn out. I promise.

We are now at "Væktarhaugan" (is tempting to translate this into "Weight Watcher's Hills" as I tend to eat far too much candy at this place). The cabin is located three kilometres from the nearest village, and the road is closed during the winter. Some people ski here, but we pay one of the locals to take us up on his snowmobile. (I skied up the first two years, so I have proved that I can. Which is quite important, as you do not want the people in the other cabins to talk about the lazy daughter-in-law who does not ski. Nope.)

Staying at the cabin is very relaxing. At least after I gave up the skiing thing. (I strongly believe that you should not struggle to be good at something you so OBVIOUSLY were not meant to do.) My father-in-law has built the place himself, and it is one of those REAL MOUNTAIN CABINS that do not have access to water, and we got electricity only a few years back.


Due to the lack of plumbing, the toilet facilities are "somewhat exotic", but as you can see from the picture above, we tend to keep a certain (royal) standard nonetheless. Having photos of royalty out in the outhouse is an ancient tradition in Norway, dating back to WWII, when Norwegians kept a photo of their beloved king in the outhouse as that was the only place where the stupid Germans did not dare go (you do not visit these places if you do not have "business" there, I assure you).

In spite of walking around slightly constipated (being such a chicken, I rarely go to the above mentioned place after dark) for close to a week, with greasy hair - I really do enjoy my Easter holidays up here. It is extremely care-free and relaxing, and the questions to worry about are pretty basic:
  • When should we eat again, and what
  • Is it too early to sit down on the terrace with a glass of rosé (what will the neighbors say?)
  • Will I be able to sleep tonight if I have another nap, like, right NOW?
  • Who should be the dealer for the next card game (SO not me, I suck at shuffling cards)
Aaaah. The weather looks nice and it is almost noon. I think a glass on the the terrace RIGHT NOW might be a good idea. Chablis, anyone?

PS. The ice broke on the river below the cabin yesterday, so in case we are not able to cross tomorrow afternoon, I guess I'll see you again in June, when the road opens.....

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Driving myself mad


My newest pair of Nike Shox. Me like! Perfect shoes for my upcoming Easter Holiday. Which started TODAY. Yay.

Norway is such a beautiful country. Oh yes. I will tell you a secret. Occasionally, all this nature can be a bit too much. For instance, when driving to my my in-laws' "chalet", the so-called "Høtta". In the "Trøndish Alps", also referred to as "Sylan". This is a five-hour drive from my parents' house. Through a long valley, "Østerdalen". Or "Eastern Valley". Pretty describing, as there is not much about it - other than being east.  This is a valley full of:
  • Trees
  • Norway's greatest river - "Glomma"
  • More trees
  • A couple of gas stations
  • A tavern or two (with a customer base mostly consisting of truckers)
  • One particular tavern that we now drive past, as we tend to get a bad stomach after eating there.
  • Even more trees
  • A few cute places along the way, which we never have the time to stop and visit. Like "Tynset". Who boasts that they have the world's greatest "kick"* on display in their main square (they do have a square - yay!).
This stretch of road is hell. It takes FOREVER to get through it. It all looks the same. And, nowadays you even have to keep the speed limit. Crikey.


It is a good thing we have GPS.

* Totally untranslatable. A "kick" (Norwegian: "spark") is an ancient Norwegian type of SUV (Sports Utility Vehicle).

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Sleeping with a serial killer


After a weekend on the slopes of Kvitfjell (I could have said the OLYMPIC slopes, but I have never skied down the actual competition slope, too much of a chicken), including a lovely dinner with T & T & T & T at their apartment close to the hotel on Saturday, we left for my home town.

Hm, well, saying that I grew up IN AN ACTUAL TOWN would kind of be taking things a bit too far. I grew up very much on the outskirts of this town. In the middle of a field. As a friend of mine said when she came to stay with me at my parents' place the night before one of her skiing competitions, and she was not able to fint the place: "I did not believe people could actually live out there". Hah. YES, they can. And it is pretty idyllic, too.

And, as a kid, I think it helps you build character having to ride your bicycle for at least a couple of kilometres to have anybody to play with (apart from the boys next door, but they were not that fond of playing with my Barbie dolls).


I am fortunate enough to have a client in the area these days, so I could work at their head office (yes!) during the first days of Easter. Which means that I could stay with my parents for three days. Which beats staying at any spa for weeks. I find it a bit difficult falling asleep when staying there, as everything is SO QUIET. And - it gets SO VERY DARK. But when I fall asleep, it is like being in a COMA. No trams. No being woken up by drunken neighbors shouting in the hallway. Or flushing of toilets.
The only possible disturbance might be the cute, but extremely violent, cat -jumping into your bed to cuddle up on your feet.

Zzzzzzzz.
.

In the country-side you keep a cat not just for company. It is an outright necessity. You need someone to keep the mice out of your house. Our current one, however (conveniently carrying the same name as all of his ancestors, the Norwegian equivalent of "Kitty"), is the most blood-thirsty  "trigger-happy" (if you may say that about a CAT) I have seen so far. A real serial-killer. He kills for fun. And he even enjoys playing with his prey before they die. He will go after anything. Biting the head off squirrels is a favorite. And birds - of any shape - and size. Once he tried killing a pheasant. We should be glad that he has stayed off the peasants... So far.

I guess I should sleep with one eye open. In case his instincts suddenly kicks in during the night.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Planes, trains and automobiles


Sigh. Being a globetrotter like myself can be PRETTY STRESSFUL sometimes. I'll tell you. After a hectic, all be it interesting, week in Helsinki with my new team of colleagues, I had to catch the early afternoon plane back to Oslo on Friday to catch a train.

After explaning to the gate crew that I had only 40 minutes between my ETA at Gardermoen and the train departing towards Dombås, I was even allowed to board the plain lugging four (!) pieces of cabin luggage. On Scandinavian. And this was without Mr. Incredible and his Eurobonus Gold in tow. Amazing.

Of course, the flight was delayed. By 30 minutes. Thanks to the cabin steward letting me stash all of my belongings up front, I was able to leave the plane before the remaining passengers, and RUN (ouch!) for the train station. Past the tax free shop. Can you imagine the PAIN?!

I just about made it. I even had a WHOLE MINUTE to spare before the train arrived (our national rail services are not known to ever be on time, which - although mostly annoying - CAN sometimes be a good thing). Wheew. To my great disappointment there was no restaurant car. Alas, no RED WINE. Weep.

After enjoying the scenic landscapes along the beautiful lake Mjøsa for three hours, I was greeted by the pre-booked taxi-diver at Ringebu station. One of the TWO taxi-drivers in this godforsaken place. Half-way up to the hotel at Kvitfjell, the taxi driver (who apparently also doubled as the taxi central booking service) asked if I would be willing to drive back down again to collect another hotel guest. He even offered to share the cost of the ride! How generous! Being a girl, of course I felt bad about having to turn the offer down politely. Although inside I wanted to SCREAM - "F*** you, I have been travelling for seven hours now, I COULD HAVE BEEN IN NEW YORK BY NOW!": But, of course, I didn't.

Arriving at Gudbrandsgard Hotel I was greeted by the newly appointed hotel piccolo, a.k.a. Mr. Incredible. And - waiting in our suite (with a humongous terrace facing the ski slopes) - was our old acquaintance - Mr. Perignon, too.

Being a globetrotter is perhaps not that bad after all.

Friday, April 15, 2011

Restaurant Ravintola


"Heeeeere's Mooooooomin!"

I know. Not quite as scary as Jack Nicholson in The Shining. You simply cannot go to Finland without bringing one of these adoring creatures back. This cute little guy is soon going to be adopted by another cute little guy - my friend's son born on April 1st. I tend to be the one buying my friends' kids drum kits and WHITE plush toys. Very practical.

It took me THREE days to figure out why so many of the restaurants in Helsinki are called "Ravintola". Until the OBVIOUS struck me. It means RESTAURANT. Gaaah. The Finnish language is weird. Normally I am able to understand bits and pices of foreign languages because they have some similar words. Ohno. Not the Finnish, no. They speak IN CODE. Most of them do not say much, though. So it is not really a huge problem. Until they try to speak English. THEN things start to get really complicated. "Would you like some FISS for LUNS?"

And, not knowing the language here, you might suddenly find yourself in UTTER danger. But what sort of danger?
  • Getting too drunk?
  • Break-dancing?
  • Dying?
  • Doing the funky-chicken-dance?
  • Or.. simply... falling?

Who knows. I tried to be careful, though.

My self-imposed shopping-ban sort of fell apart on Monday afternoon. Hm. Having a house to fill with new stuff, and a summer in sunny France coming up very soon, it just got too hard resisting the cute psychedelic summer dresses. And the Marimekko cushion covers with COWS on them. And the Iitalla glass plates that I have never seen back home. And - last but not least - the sauna hats. A MUST when we go to my "cabin-in-law" for Easter, right?


Today I will be working on my "please-I-know-I-have-at-least-one-piece-of-hand-luggage-too-many" smile for my airport check-in this afternoon. After all, supporting the local economy is the decent thing to do when travelling. Hm. And there was a mid-season sale at the local Marina Rinaldi. Irresistible.




Monday, April 11, 2011

The master of the post-it dragon


I was supposed to get up at 4 this morning. To make things even worse - the alarm went off TEN TO FOUR. Just to spite me, I'm sure. Amazingly enough, I have been able to get through the first day of my training course without having to rely on substances like COFFEE. Dinner is in an hour, and I am still awake. Sort of.

Did not look that promising when I was waiting for the train this morning, though. I was in such a coma that I did not even recognize my own boss sitting down next to me at the airport train terminal. Talk about being a mindless (blonde) zombie. I just cannot help it. Before 5 AM I am just no good.

Is it any wonder I think our loan application work process mapped at the end of the day started to look a bit like a dragon? Please, please tell me you see the resemblance too, and that it is not just me hallusinating. Please?

On the positive side, I can mention that today I have added one more country to my list of "places I have been to". I am in Finland for the week, more specifically: Helsinki. After working for a Finnish-based company for three years, I guess that was long overdue. This addition means that I am now one meager country ahead of Mr. Incredible in our never-ending battle to be "the ultimate globetrotter" of our house. Yay.

Hm. And, you know what? There is a Marimekko store across the street from my hotel. Yaaaay.

Too bad I am travelling with just my carry-on this week. Which means:
  • Serious cuts in the shoe department (brought TWO very lonely pairs - weep)
  • Shopping will be extremely limited

Oh well. At least I will be a certified master of something quite cool by Friday.

Saturday, April 09, 2011

Confession time


I love waking up early on Saturday mornings, because then I can allow myself to dose off again and really enjoy the fact that I DO NOT HAVE TO get up. Bliss.

Had a bit of a nerdy afternoon, with half of it spent analyzing some weird calculation results in an equity note I am currently working on, before my cousin came over to work with me preparing for her upcoming mid-term in maths. (Which makes me realize how long it really is since I was in the same situation myself, as I seem to have forgotten quite a lot).

At five I met up with my sis, the before mentioned cousin, and - of course - Mr. Incredible. Early dinner at Nodee. Tempura, crispy duck and black cod. Yum. Accompanied by a nice Puligny-Montrachet. Eh, well, ok - maybe we had two. A perfect little get-together before the highlight of the evening: Concert at Oslo Spektrum with the popular Norwegian band "Kaizers Orchestra".

I have been looking forward to this concert for MONTHS. These guys have a vision to be no less than THE WORLD'S GREATEST LIVE BAND (!). Ambitious, yes, but not totally unrealistic. They are actually quite popular even outside Norway, in spite of most of their songs being in Norwegian. Strange, yes. But enjoying them live is an experience. They really DO deliver the goods.

(And the lead singer is HOT-HOT-HOT.)

A great concert.

There is just one small problem.

Although Norway is a quite small country, we have quite a few different dialects.
And - this particular band sings in their local dialect - from somewhere close to Stavanger.
A dialect that is by no means foreign to me, but in the middle of the concert it suddenly hit me:

MOSTLY- I HAVEN'T GOT THE FAINTEST IDEA WHAT THESE GUYS ARE SINGING ABOUT!

Help.

Thursday, April 07, 2011

Incredible. Indeed.


And - FINALLY -  the sidewalks are free of ice and snow! Shoe time! I have now started on the back row of my shoe wardrobe. Which contains some pretty weird mistakes, as well as - I hope - some hidden treasures. These are - I presume - something in between. From Norwegian "pretend-to-be-Italian" brand Enzo Poli. Shoes are Italian, yes, but try finding a pair of Enzo Poli shoes in Italy. Nope. No. Niente. I have not used these for quite a while. Due to a combination of toes being squeezed beyond recognition in them, AND the fact that they have been very much out of fashion. Pointy shoes have been a terrible fashion faux-pas for a while now, but according to my glossy magazines they are now coming back. Cool. Because they make my short legs look longer. At least that is what I say to comfort myself when my toes hurt like hell. The depressing part here is that I hang on to stuff long enough for them to go out of fashion and then back in again. Sad.

Being a bit swamped at work. Don't get me wrong, being busy when you work as a consultant is a good thing. So I am by no means complaining, absolutely not. And I do love my job. It is just that EVERYTHING always seems to happen at the same time. What is funny, though, is that times when I work 12 hours a day I get more done around the house, simply because I HAVE TO be very efficient, and cannot allow things to slide. And being the control-freak that we are, we cannot let that happen, can we?

What is truly annoying, though, is that quite a few unexpected things do happen when you least need them to. Like this morning. Mister Incredible, is - as I have described to you soooo many times - pretty incredible. Yes. On most occasions - this is meant in a positive way. But - of course - he is not by any means perfect. He is a MAN you know. With all the things that come with it.

I noticed a weird beeping sound getting out of bed this morning. (When I come to think of it, I might even have heard it on my way to the bathroom during the night as well.) It turns out that it was the freezer in our kitchen. Which was trying to tell me that the love of my life had been up during the night getting a glass of water. With ICECUBES. But he sort of FORGOT the minor detail of SHUTTING THE  FREEZER DOOR after him. Rightie. And it was not that he had sort of tried to shut it, but it just did not close properly, and he was unfortunate enough not to notice. Ohno. HE LEFT IT WIDE OPEN!

Argh.

So. To my great joy, this morning I have been trying to rescue some of the food that was in there. Cooking EIGHT hamburgers and frying up a kilo of moose - at 6 AM - is not my idea of a dream morning, I'll tell you.


For some reason I really don't feel like having breakfast today. Yuk.

PS. If you are reading this, dear, picking up some flowers for your little wifey on your way home from work this afternoon, might be a very good investment.