I'm a Mutant

I am well aware that the minute I post this blog I will regret it.  This post will inevitably set me up for a boulder-storm of mockery, but sometimes one must sacrifice them self for the sake of an amusing blog.  You're welcome.
I have to start with some background first.  One of the newest developments with me has been a newfound friendship in the form of a Norwegian weightlifter living in my hall by the name of Yngve.  In his words, "I didn't really have a choice on being your friend" which was true.  I pretty much decided we should be friends and pestered him enough until he caved.  Anyways, being a weightlifter, him and his gigantic friends eat massive quantities of meat every night and this is where my story begins.
So for those of you that know me well, you know that I have a particularly...healthy appetite.  As Yngve and I have begun trading off making dinner here and there, he has come to discover to quite frankly his utter shock, how much I eat.  This is of course the source of numerous jokes about how no one could afford to take me out to dinner and blah blah blah. It made me flashback to the time when Jiro made rice for me and I ate it all only to discover when I complained about being really full that Jiro had cooked 3 cups of rice so that he could have some for lunch the next day.  Oh he looooved that.
Anyways, last night I decided to go American and cook a double decker burger and some fries for myself.  Yngve joined but didn't think two patties was enough so he made four and claimed, "If I can't finish it, I will just give it to you."  Hardy har.  Well, I had no problem with my burger (which ended up much larger than I anticipated) and looked over to see him struggling.  He started breathing heavily and broke a sweat before he was even done with his burger.  Amused, I smirked at him as I nonchalantly popped fries into my mouth and said, "what, can't you finish?"  Sensing the threat to his masculinity, he managed the burger and one of the extra patties before he laid back and moaned in agony. Then he told me he feared eating meals with me would put him in danger of becoming "American fat."  By that time, I had moved onto my chocolate dessert, and told him mockingly, "one more..."  That was when he did something I didn't expect.  He sat up and this look of genuine concern washed over his face as he reached for his plate and moved it away from me defensively. With real fear in his eyes he looked at me and said, "You can't have it.  I want it for lunch tomorrow."  I just about died laughing.  The thought that this big weightlifter felt the need to guard his food from me like a mother protecting its young was priceless.
After the laughter subsided, I began to think.  Is the day a weightlifter has to worry about me eating him out of house and home, the day I should ask myself: Is something wrong with me?  I mean, where does it go?  I'm like a black hole in female form.  I'm certainly up shit's creek if my metabolism were to ever give out on me.  Actually, nah I'm too stubborn to get fat..but still. Well, luckily I'm good for now, but I've decided that the only explanation is that I must be a mutant of some sort.  It's probably some sort of evolutionary advantage that if it got fixed in a population would result in skinny vaccuum feeding descendants.   Now there's a thought.  You're welcome, mankind.  For now though, I think I can conclude with two things.  1) My mutant ass officially eats more than a grown male, Norwegian weightlifter and 2) Regardless, I would take being a mutant over "American fat" any day.

To My Fellow Californians, This is What Fall Looks Like

And it's cold.  It's actually a good thing I took these pictures when I did because it snowed the next day.  Just a little, but enough to stick on the ground.  I was actually really happy when it started snowing because I had been commenting on how cold it is for a little bit and everyone would look and me and be like "oh man you're in for it."  I blamed being from California, but then last weekend I went to a dinner with a Colombian friend from my research group Maria, and she only had on a not so thick sweater and was fine while I was layered up in a sweater, wool coat, gloves and a scarf and was shaking.  At that point I started to wonder if I was just a wimp.  So when the snow came, I felt validated.  If it is cold enough for snow, it is cold.
If you ask any Norwegians about the weather (which they love to talk about) they will tell you they had their coldest winter ever last year. I thought to myself...phew dodged a bullet there.  But then on the train today I overheard a women telling her friend...."yeah, the weather forecasters are saying this will be the coldest winter ever..even worse than last year."  So, cross your fingers for me.  On the bright side, it means there will be a lot of snow for me to take up skiing like I have been looking forward to.

What else to tell you?  Hmmm well...my research group is awesome.   I was invited to a dinner hosted by a supervisor in my research group and he told us to bring Belgian beers for a beer tasting after.  Consequently, I learned a valuable lesson about life in Norway: don't try to buy alcohol on a Saturday.  So their alcohol laws are funny...the grocery stores aren't allowed to sell drinks with more than 4.7% (I think) alcohol..so if you want to buy wine, hard liquor or real beer, you have to go to the Vinmonopolet.  Also, you can't buy beer after 8 on weekdays, after 6 on Saturday or at all on Sunday.  I thought I was in the clear by going to the Vinmonopolet at 3:30 but it was closed.  I thought to myself, are they taking a waffle break or something?  But then I looked at the store hours and they close at 3 on Saturdays.  Of course.  So I came without Belgian beer to the dinner, but it was okay anyway.  I thought it would be a early night in, but after a delicious dinner, our group hung out until I think like 5:30 in the morning.  It was really nice to hang out with my research group outside of school, they are all really great.  Most supervisors don't drink with their students and play in rock bands...so I lucked out for sure on this one.  Also noteworthy, in a bit of a Belgian beer blur, I agreed to play floor hockey on Wednesday mornings.  I'm fairly certain I will be awful at it, but I am looking forward to it because I think it will be a lot of fun.  The friend that invited me Tore, also told me that Glenn (my supervisor) gets really mad when he gets scored on so I am a bit curious to see that as well.
Oh this reminds me, another friend Norith was nice enough to invite me to do yoga last week.  Now, I am not exactly known for my grace or balance but I thought it would be fun to try it out.  I brought along two other international students that were interested as well.  Being the silly foreigners that we are, we went and sat in front of the wrong room and didn't realize it until right before class started. So, we had to run into the actual room only to find that all the spots were taken expect for the front.  Crap. So we went in front and were surrounded by people so flexible they could probably lick their own butts if they wanted to.  The best part though was when it was really quiet and we were all trying to hold a pose with out arms wrapped around one leg, my friend Katie lost her balance and fell ever so loudly into the table right next to her.  I was dying I was laughing (quietly) to myself so hard.  It took me about 5-10 min to gain composure after that.  Though I'm not sure I ever looked particularly composed.  Anyways, I enjoyed it and plan on going again next week and this time Maria will join as well.  I think it will be a good relaxing thing to do after a long day of studying.
  
What else is new?  I've waged war with US Airways.  They are refusing to refund the refundable ticket I bought for coming home this winter.  I can't use the flight because I have a final that day and because as I told my dad, I would rather have a kidney stolen by a band of gypsies than ever fly US Airways again.  For the first time ever I lost it on the phone with a customer service person and have been swamping them with emails.  I figure if I keep bugging them enough I might get my way, and if I don't atleast I will make it difficult for them.  We'll see.
What else?  Oooh there was a party for biologist on campus last night, which I went to.  Every time I go to something like this where the have set up a bar and a music on campus I can't help but laugh and think of how different it is from back home.  Americans are up tight.  Though this is odd with how strict Norway is with their alcohol laws.  Maria has a theory that Norway is only strict with the drinking laws because when it is cold in the winter, the government doesn't want people drinking and sitting around in the cold and dying.  I think there may be some truth in that.
Well, it's time for me to go.  There is a ski sale and my hallmate has offered to come with me to see if we can get some affordable skies for me.  It is snowing, after all...

Yeah, yeah, yeah

I promise I will write a new blog tomorrow.....


Update:  Ug, sorry.  I lied to my own blog. 

When You Think You're Good at Something

So I got a little gym crazy this week. Maybe it was because friends kept going to the gym and I didn't want to be the lazy one sitting at home instead, or maybe it was the deep seeded fear that I would come home for winter break with some extra lbs and give Jiro the satisfaction of being able to say "It was only a matter of time." Either way, I have been taking a page from the Norwegian's book and have been particularly active.
The newest developments in my workout regimen have been..ahem ragga jam dance class and swimming. I'll start with ragga jam. So, I really wanted to take Zumba, which my Estonian friend Liiri told me about...but she told me the classes fill up really fast and that you have to sign up for the Monday class between 8:00 and 8:15 on Saturday morning in order to get a spot. Ug, seriously? Well, I did it anyway...I ever so enthusiastically woke myself up bright and early on Saturday morning so I could sign on to my student housing page and then have them tell me that my password for booking sports doesn't work. Shocking. God forbid a password I type down in this country actually be correct. So later that day, I went to the gym with a friend and asked the receptionist why I can't sign up for group classes online. She scanned my card and said, "Well, you have to be a member to sign up for classes." I looked at her with my ah..kind eyes and told her, "I am a member." She then told me that I had not paid for the gym this semester and I told her, "Yes I have." And after 5 minutes of arguing with her, she discovered that I had paid but that they forgot to put my email into the system. Since Zumba was full now, my only option was to drop in to a ragga jam class. Fine. A couple days later, Liiri and I went to the ragga jam class. Before class, I was thinking..I did Zumba back home...I can shake it..I'm from California, home to hip hop and latin influences...I've seen the Norwegians dancing at the bars...maybe I should tone it down a bit so as not to scare them. Ha, well..little did I know that Norway is home to fifteen Shakiras all of which happen to take ragga jam class at the gym. After about 15 minutes of stumbling around like an idiot, I couldn't help but chuckle at the irony. Fun fact: ragga jam is much more technical than Zumba. My favorite was a series of 4 choreographed arm and leg moves that we repeated 8 times and not once did I manage to get the whole thing right. I actually thought the teacher was trying to repeat it until I got it right, but gave up. Nevertheless, humbling as it was..it was a lot of fun. What wasn't so fun was when I woke up at 8 am again to try and sign up for the next Zumba class only to find that the receptionist did not actually fix my online account.
Now for swimming. So for those that know me well, you know that I swam in high school and did junior life guards and what not..so I'm a good swimmer. Well, I was talking to a friend in my hall and said I would like to start swimming laps over here instead of running. He said, "oh me too, let's swim together..how about tomorrow?" Happily, I said yes..it's always better to work out with someone. Then he proceeded to tell me how was on his college's swim team. "Crap. This is going to be embarrassing" I thought to myself. I am definitely not in swimming shape anymore. Then I made the mistake of mentioning to another friend later that I was going to swim laps the next day. He asked me, "are you a good swimmer?" and naturally I told him.."yeah." Well, he called my bluff. He then said "oh let's swim together sometime next week, I played water polo and swam a 3K race last spring." I thought to myself, "Oh fuck me, what are the chances?" So now after spending the last 6 days at the gym, two of which in the pool...I can hardly move. I actually woke up this morning thinking I had the flu because there was not a single muscle of my body that didn't feel like I had a knife in it. So as of today...I'm boycotting the gym until next week and I have decided that the next time someone asks me if I am good at something, no matter what it is, even knowledge of English..I should just say, "oh god, no."

Sissies

Well, I was getting complaints that my former blog background was hurting some people's eyes.  Disgruntled as I am about having to change the format I was rather fond of, I of course do not want to be the source of any migraines or temporary blindness. Being the fickle creature that I am, I will most likely change my mind on the format a number of times before I settle in.  Fair warning.

Update:  Alright, I'm sticking with this one.

Never Make Assumptions

Libby and I have learned that it is best to never make an assumption in Norway because you will inevitably be wrong.  As we have fully embraced the "what can go wrong, will go wrong" attitude; just to keep us on our toes, Norway throws us a bone once and a while.  Exhibit A:  Train ticket checking. 

Okay, so I have been a good little student and for the last almost 2 months have paid for my train tickets or had my 30 day student travel card and had yet to have anyone check it.  My time to renew my travel card was a few days ago but I got a bit lazy and put it off thinking I'll get it tomorrow and that they don't check anyway.  Well, of course they checked tickets in my few day lapse.  I'll admit, I really should have seen that one coming.  

Anyways, I look up to see a woman in a train control uniform asking for tickets.  A wave of fear came over me, a woman controller, just my luck.  She looked nice enough, but I was not to be fooled.  No one wins with a female cop back home...always have something to prove, and I wasn't about to roll the dice on her.  I contemplated bolting, but it would be a little bit before the next stop and that seemed awfully dramatic.  

Then I saw the male ticket checker and thus a small glimmer of hope.  I nodded to the woman that I would give it to him and did without any look of concern.  He stared at his scanner thing for a second and then sat down next to me.  Hmmm this is not good, I thought for sure he was sitting down so he could write my fine.  He told me that my card had expired and I quickly told him, "oh no, I thought I had more time on it!"  He stared at his monitor and said it didn't.  I told him, "please don't give me a ticket, I'll get out and walk."  He sat for a second, looked up to read me and without saying a word I told him "yes, I am a crier."  He whispered back to me, "Get it today" and walked away to me whispering "thanks".  Success!  Naturally, I went to renew my card immediately afterwards but the only machine near my housing was broken so I have to attempt to deal with it tomorrow, but I didn't get fined.  It is nice to know that even in the land of gender equality, the men have sense enough to know that a hysterical woman is best avoided.