Mediocre Travel

Holly Butcher died at a very young age.  She posted a letter to Facebook that has gone viral, so eventually it made its way to me.  The two statements that resonated were:

"Say no to things you really don't want to do."

"Don't feel pressured to do what other people might think is a fulfilling life..you might want a mediocre life and that is so okay."

Around the same time I was reading her heartbreaking letter, my Macclesfield host told me about a  "slow journalist," Paul Salopek, who is walking the human trail from Africa to Australia.  It's called the Out of Eden walk. It sounds fascinating.  It's a long-term goal, but not as long-term as Peace Pilgrim's:  after her enlightenment she literally walked until the end of her days.  She stopped counting miles at around 25,000.

I cannot be either one of these amazing people.  I don't want to be, although I envy their certitude and purpose, and I think they have lessons for me.

But meanwhile, I have this obvious, but shame-faced, bent towards mediocrity. I combine it with my love of travel, and the result is slow travel. But it's not intentional slow travel as my friend M practises it, nor V's "organic" decision-making; nor is it the more rigorous experience of slow journalism. It's mediocre travel. I don't study or research my journeys, and I don't get out there and interview people.  In fact, I meet very few people indeed.  I'm more a hermit than anything, a  non-meditating, non-spiritual hermit who relocates to a new retreat every few days or weeks or months.

I think about the dichotomy of living in the moment vs recording the moment. I know it need not be a dichotomy.  My cousin has come to terms with the fact that he often experiences the moment through his camera lens.  For him, it's only partly about creating art or recording an emotion/event. I get that.  When I'm in a museum, I often use my camera to zero in on something that intrigues me, usually textures and colors.  I don't always capture the image, but I usually do.  There's something about that final click, the "ah, yes.  That's what I am seeing!"

Still, why do I feel the need to share that moment, to publish that image?  Is that the slow journalist coming out?  No, because I don't research it;  I don't analyze it.  I just do the travel version of the selfie:  looky, looky, I was here, I saw this! Behind every photo and every haiku and every blog is my plea: Make of it what you will. I hope you like it, I hope you validate it, and that might validate my life choices. 

I share these things, because I don't want to examine my life, a la Socrates.  Apparently, I want others to do so for me. Yet, what would I do with this self-knowledge? What do I do?  What should I do? Ah, that "should." Beating myself up is no fun for anyone.  Artificially creating a purpose is counter-productive, oddly unpurposeful.  I revise and combine Holly's dicta:  don't do anything you don't want to do in an effort to live what others might see as a fulfilling life.  In fact, don't try to do something you see as fulfilling.  Just do fulfilling things.

Sounds like a slogan: easier said than done. And rather mediocre.

Ecstatic trances

When I was visiting Taos last December, I learned about ecstatic trance; L shared her training from the Cuyamungue Institute.  She is not officially a practitioner, but she’s well on her way.  As with any healing technique there is much learning and certification. She cannot charge for her work without the blessing of the Institute.  

I had not realized how involved and exhausting the process would be for her.  On the drive up, M had told me about this new venture of L's, and it sounded fascinating.  In all my energy work with meditation, yoga, acupuncture, and tai chi chih, I had never reached a place of trance or even transcendence. I don't know if it's the heavy influence of my left brain, or if I just haven't found the right practice.  I know that I want to connect at deeper levels, but I'm not really sure what those deeper levels are.  

The other reason I was interested was the state of my tailbone and a recent recurrence of vertigo.  I was in some pain from the hard sit/fall in Ireland, a few weeks back, and I was not able to meet with my Taos energy healer.  Somehow I'd messed up the schedule.  She had me on a waiting list for Monday, but I wasn't sanguine.  Meanwhile, there I was, at L's lovely earth ship, with two of the coolest women on the planet, one of whom could lead me to ecstatic trance.  It seemed the perfect solution.

We talked about the Institute and what the work involved.  It seemed that an anthropologist had used her study of ancient drawings to determine that shamans had used a combination of pose and sound to achieve ecstatic trances, some healing, some other.  I, of course, was interested in the healing poses, but left it up to L to decide what to do.  In fact, I left it up to her to decide if she even wanted to do this.  It's not a simple process.

In the privacy of her room, she dowsed "Is it for our higher good that we do this?" and then for the choice of pose.  We set up a sort of altar on the floor, choosing objects of earth, air, fire, and water.  I chose one of the pots I had left with her last May:  as it was fired in a pit and later washed with milk, it combined all elements.  And I love it. 

Then we arranged cushions and blankets and practiced the pose, trying to find a way to be comfortable enough to hold steady for 15 minutes.  The pose had us kneel and hold arms up, with hands meeting in the middle and elbows out.  The head needed to be turned up, slightly. None of this was easy:  turns out it was one of the hardest poses, the very last of the healing poses.  L  did not share that with us, nor read what the book said about it, as she wanted us to come to it unbiased.  After some fussing with pillows, we were as ready as we could be.

We started with a ritual, calling spirits from ordinal points and scattering corn meal.  This was followed by 5 minutes of breath work. Then we listened to the rattles from the website while holding the pose for 15 minutes. Afterwards, we wrote about the experience, and after that we shared.

M had a number of visions, interspersed with the thought, "I am so uncomfortable!"  I can't recall what L said, but she spent some time explaining how she had come to choose the pose:  she had thought about what I needed.  The interesting thing is, while I had no visions or feelings of transcendence, the next day I woke up with no pain in my tailbone.  It was pretty amazing.  The pain came back later, but to a much lesser degree.

Here's what I wrote after the pose:
Aftermath: legs tingling as I stretch them out, head cool
During:  cool tingle across the crown, breathing, pulses in legs, warmth pulsing through arms and legs, head pose not hold-able.  ache at base of head, sweat trickling down my back, then at the base of my skull, in my hair; a sense that the chi was pounding through, released in breath and sweat, warmth throughout. Thought of B; listening for the rattle; legs getting warmer and warmer, pulsing. no coherent thoughts, focus on body and noticing no back pain, thinking about my "sisters" wondering how long the pose could hold, sense that time was not, that body could sit like this, but not wanting to :) opened eyes occasionally, straightened head to relieve neck pressure, turned more to center. 
Basic sense of cleansing.

I'm thinking about this, because I realize that I am not involved in any energy practice right now. As I worked on the 2nd violin parts yesterday, I noticed that my back and neck muscles are compromised, and I am generally stiff.  Clearly, while trance is beyond my grasp, I need to do some more yoga.   Or meditation.
Ommm

The National Drink:. Slainte!

On my first visit to the Celtic Connections, I stopped by some of the booths. There were tastings at  one: some special Shetland gin (flavored w/ seaweed?!) and a blended whisky. ( Sadly, the chocolatier was stranded by weather, so there were just a few for show.  A pity, they looked amazing!) I realized that, here I was in Scotland, and I wasn't drinking Scotch!  So I I did some research and then wrote to an expert....

Hi KP, I plan to stop by a well-rated whisky bar in Glasgow (the Pot Still). Any suggestions as to what I should order?

Here's a really fun rebuttal to a poor Trip Advisor review of said whisky bar :

• So all told you spent 20 seconds waiting at the bar in a visit that lasted a minute and a quarter. The youngest Scotch we sell waits three years in cask before its even considered a whisky, let alone ready to be bottled. The oldest whisky we have waited 50 years before being bottled. When it went into cask, no-one knew who Sergeant Pepper was and the UK was trying to get INTO Europe.
• If you feel 20 seconds is too long in your life to hang on in that company, then maybe you're not ready for whisky yet. We'll be happy to help you with recommendations when you are. 

KP's reply:

I guess it depends what single malts they've got. My own favorites, depending on mood are:
Smoky: Lagavulin
Spicy: Talisker
Light: Glenfarclas
Sherried: Macallan
Sweet: Cragganmore
The regular offerings of the above are aged 10 or 12 years; Lagavulin is usually 16 years. You might want to try a sip of anything they've got 25 years or older, but do it first before alcohol from other tastings numbs your palate. Ask for the darkest they've got, I suppose, as it will have drawn the most flavor from the cask, which will have held wine, port, or sherry, not a bourbon barrel. If they are serving cask-strength, take a sip straight and then add drops of water.

So, armed with this advice, I walked through the ice and snow to the Pot Still.  I had about 2 hours before the doors opened for the Tannahill Weavers concert.  I had to ask directions, as I only had a vague remembrance of the address. I called it the Still Pot, but they knew what I was talking about, and I was close.

It looked sweet:  an old building with a hanging sign picturing a copper pot.  But when I stepped in, I was gobsmacked.  It was like a college bar, only filled with 30-somethings.  It was packed, standing room only, the bar to the left, and large tables and booths to the right.  In front of me was a wide space dotted with columns around which people were clustered.  Towards the back a half flight of stairs parallel to the back wall  led to an open landing, lined  on three sides with a dark wooden bench.  Small tables and short stools stood in front of the bench. and small tables. Open wooden railings separated them from the drop to the main floor. People stood 4 deep at the bar and movement was going to require shoulder tapping and wriggling. My glasses steamed up in the heat.  The noise of conversation was an assault, and you could only hear the music as a background thrum, just the bass line, fuzzy, deep, and tuneless. All that was missing was the fug of smoke:  it appeared that smoking was not allowed inside.

I shouldered my way to the bar and got the attention of a young dark-haired woman in a t-shirt.  She looked about 18, but she seemed to know her stuff.  We shouted back and forth a bit, and I said that I thought I preferred dark and smoky.  It was all I could remember of K's advice.  She brought out 4 shot glasses and climbed the ladder to pull out 4  bottles that might fit the bill. She took the time to describe each, uncorked them and let me sniff before she poured.  One was so peaty as to be medicinal. I went for her favorite:  smokier and less astringent than the rest. It left a  sharp numbness on the back of the tongue, and had a little salty aftertaste.  She wrote it down for me:  Leadaig - Tobermary. Isle of Mull.  I don't recall how old it was, but I think it was around 10.  On looking it up, I discovered that it indeed has a high reputation. 

She poured me a wee dram, neat, and I clutched it as I surveyed the room. a little helplessly, I asked if there was another room, and she said no, but I could stand at the bar, and welcome.  I  took off my long black wool coat, long scarf, and sweater, hanging them from a hook under the bar. I stood for a bit, and then thought I saw some space up in the loft.  It was hemmed in by people, but I thought, hey this is Europe, I can join people, right?  Turned out, it was an empty table, and I edged onto the bench.  piling mybelongings next to me.

To my left was a young male couple drinking beer, phones in hand, talking quietly together.  To my right a quartet of 30-ish women, screeched stories at each other.  In front, a group of young men in white shirts and vests dominated the space.  Down below was the crowded room.  Above was the metal ceiling, patterned in stars and ovals and circles. It was very complicated and reminded me of Macclesfield silk patterns. 

 I managed to take a picture of the room before my phone ran out of juice. 

Pot Still: building from 1835, has over 300 malt whisky varieties. I had one.

An elderly couple with glasses and bad teeth came and perched on stools at my table, after I nodded agreement.  But they didn't talk to me or each other, just sat bundled up and sipping their drinks.  I did discover that they too were in town for the Celtic Connection, killing time before their concert (which was earlier than mine.)

An elderly gent in tweed, wearing a cap, sat at the railing.  When the couple left, another gent joined him, taking one of the stools from the table to my right, and sitting by the railing with his friend. 

My bartender came by to bus the tables and I asked her for a pen.  She brought it, and I wrote, partly to pass the time, partly to get my impressions down.

A large man with white shirt and short black vest, stomach hanging over belt stands up.  He smiles and says something to the table, then walks down the stairs and out the door, followed by another young man.  The vest is half way up his back. Although I don't see him take his coat and assume he's going out for a smoke, he doesn't return.  Brrrr.

What with the noise and the accents, I can't understand anything people say.  I smile and nod a lot. 

Lights were dimming.  I probably had been there around an hour, time enough for the evening lighting to kick in.  I finished my wee dram and donned my layers.  As I left the table, the two gents took it over. I wish I had offered to trade places with them earlier.  I moseyed back up the street for my concert.

Impressions of Glasgow

On my last day, I took the taxi to Kelvingrove and then to the Willow Tea Room.  From there I walked up the street to the concert hall to buy the Armstrong Family  booklet for D (I'd seen it at the Celtic Connections and Facebooked a pic to her, to see if she wanted it.  She did.)  On a whim, I stopped by the box office to see if there was a ticket freed up for the sold-out Tannahill weavers.  There was, so instead of going back home I tracked down the Pot Still for that wee dram I had promised myself.  Because the Celctic connections were also holding a whiskey festival, I assumed the bar would be fairly empty.  I was wrong.
However, I did find a seat and a pen, and wrote a small account of the day:

• The sidewalks were so icy, I just slithered along.  At Kelvingrove the space between parking lot and building was a large sheet of ice.  I grabbed the arm of a tall young man, late teens, early 20s, to get to the door.  The taxi driver en route sang "I belong to Glasgow," and then found a youtube version and handed his phone to me.  I listened politely, but I would have preferred his rendition.
• The west side like Bath:  Georgian tenements, closes and crescents, but not made of golden Bath sandstone.  The buildings are more grey, with some deep red sandstone mixed in.
• It's my last day:  I'm fine with not having explored a lot.  Read, wrote, spent 3 days out and about, attended 2 concerts.  That's enough.  What I saved on meals and entry fees I spent on taxi fares.
• Hectical:  a good word coined by Sondre, the bass player from The Secret North, he of the "cabbage" in the woods of Norway.  I wonder if he lives near my housesit.  Interesting how I meet but don't connect, and I don't really care.
• I want to have a desire.  I don't really want to go out every day and explore.  I find it exhausting, especially by myself.  
• Most of the cabbies are in their late 50s, my age, but they look so old.  Am I just not accepting my age?  or does the working life age one more than the contemplative life? 
• I feel like I should have spent more time checking out Mackintosh interiors for L and the club scene for V.  But I mainly looked at art, architecture, the way the city is put together, its history.  So many people were affected by the World Wars, but that's the case all over Europe.  Entire villages lost the next generation of young men, everyone carried gas masks, people built bomb shelters.  It was more prevalent than the "duck and cover" of the Cold War.

Looking for Mackintosh and finding Glasgow

When I accepted the house sit in Glasgow, all I knew was that the owner was French and that it was going to be cold and dark.  My cousin told me it was a cosmopolitan city, and I understood that at one time it was second only to London in size, wealth, and opportunity.  But all I really knew about Glasgow was that it was the home of Rennie Mackintosh, and that the V&A and Bath museums had borrowed some of his work. So, one major plan was to find his architecture in the city and his furniture in the museums.  My aunt was a big fan at one time, and she wanted to hear all about it.

Sadly, snow and ice kept me inside for most of the week I was there. I was able to walk the 20 minutes via University of Strathclyde to Glasgow MOMA, an ornately beautiful building that started as a magnate's home and morphed into library and other civic buildings.  Then, using the brochure and map I got from GMOMA, strolled over to The Lighthouse museum, which had some nice exhibits.

 It was also full of schoolkids, climbing the circular stairs of the tower and riding the elevator to the viewing platform in groups of 8.  Someone was trying to film a young couple and piano on the viewing platform, but they had to wait for the kids to cycle through. 

Because the River Clyde runs through the city, I found myself climbing a lot of hills and then curving back down.  There are some nice pedestrian walkways, and in general the populace seems amenable to walkers.  I was reminded of Portland, when I arrived 30 years ago.

Sadly, the ice came back, and I didn't want to slide down those hills and maybe fall again.  So, I took taxis.  There was another nice exhibit of Mackintosh and MacDonald design, among other things, at the palatial Kelvingrove museum.

And another unexpected plus was the the Peoples Museum, another palatial building, though not as huge as Kelvingrove, which once housed the Exhibition.  The Peoples Museum was more a history museum, so I learned about Glasgow and discovered that my temporary home was a late 1800's tenement, one of the batter sort with tiled halls and a "wally close."

Sadly, I just couldn't make it to the other Mackintosh sites:  they were too scattered and walking was impossible.  I did have Scottish Rarebit and Lapsong Souchong tea at the Willow Tea Room (actually in the upstairs Chinese tea room), both of which Mackintosh designed for the entrepreneur Kate Cranston.  It was quite nice to be surrounded by Mackintosh chairs.

Still, there is much more to Glasgow than Mackintosh.   It has an interesting history in general, from the shipyards to World War II to breweries and distilleries. Georgian architecture abounds. People are kind.  One of the taxi drivers sang "I love Glasgow," for me, and most of them were happy to be a tour guide.  While I didn't make it to many of the pubs or nightlife activities, there would have been a lot to do if I'd wanted to.

An added plus to my stay was the 25th Celtic Connections festival:  a 3-week extravaganza of fiddles, pipes, accordions and harp, in traditional and fusion variations. I was fortunate enough to catch 2 shows, the second being the 50th anniversary of the Tannahill Weavers, still going strong.  Amazing. And so very Scottish.  They got their start in Paisley, the nearby suburb that I visited years ago, flying in en route to the Orkneys.
Maybe I'll make it back in another 30 years and check out the Mackintosh sites I missed.  Or attend a concert of the Scottish National Orchestra.  Or walk along the Clyde.  So many possibilities.

That glorious white stuff

It's -1.6 C, but I could swear I hear a bird chirping in the soft stillness of that snow-blanketed world outside my window.  Poor thing

I feel like I've never experienced snow before now, despite my Midwest upbringing.  Or maybe I've just forgotten what it's like to have to dig out the car and shovel the walk and drive on packed snow and totally bundle up every time you put a toe outside.  And the ways that glasses fog up when you come inside and extremities tingle as they warm up.  It's amazing that I don't want to go outside and sled, but not surprising that my real desire is to build a snow thing. Sadly the snow is too dry to permit me.  I wonder what Andy Goldsworthy would do with it?  If it sits long enough, it compacts to light block, with a fine texture, perfect for carving or stacking.
It's not so great for shoveling or pulling down from the roof.  Although the roof apparently can handle up to 10 meters of snow, it is reaching that point, and neighbors are climbing ladders to
remove it.  I cannot do that, but I did wobble on a step ladder, hefting a rake or a hoe, slamming it into the snow, and pulling down chunks.  A fine feathery layer topped the mass. That scraped off easily. Then came the compacted snow, which broke into large chunks or imprisoned the tines.  I couldn't jerk at the rake, for fear of falling, so I wriggled it loose and tried again from a side angle.  The most I could manage to clear was the area around the gutters. The uneven edges and layering looked like a monochrome Grand Canyon along the eaves.

Later, the snow on the eaves that I could not reach achieved rounded overhanging swirls and swoops. Very O'Keeffe.

Everything is white on white on white.  The branches are so coated with snow they don't show as black or dark green:  they show frosty where they aren't totally covered up.  The short trees and stumps look like trolls.  The birches are huge feathery fans, with golden-orange lichen coating the white trunks.  One day the trees were limned with crystalline hoarfrost. It's so very beautiful.
The fields are smooth sparkles of meringue or white boiled frosting, draped over the landscape.  Once in awhile you can see tracks from skis or snowshoes or hares, but mainly it's a smooth gleaming white surface.  Unreal.
 

The light is subtle and the tones so delicate it's hard to capture them.T Sunset looks like sunrise in its soft colors.  Moonset is opalescent.

 The snow is very deep, and when it started to melt in between storms there were these huge clumps left in the trees, looking like giant impaled snowballs. Another day the tiny branches were so coated in snow they looked like antlers in velvet.

The days are lengthening, but still pretty short. The sun rises while I'm tutoring between 8 and 9 am, and sunset starts around 3:30. In between, I take my walks, shovel the snow, and do some housework.  I find that the short days are not depressing:  I like having my physical work limited by the light, and I like watching the light change. It just seems right that I am here.

Procrastination, a la Robert Benchley

Years ago I read a Robert Benchley piece entitled something like "How to Get Things Done."  It's probably one of the earliest self-help essays!  Although, being a Bob Benchley production, it was not serious.  Essentially, he used the fine art of distraction.  He would have piles of things to do or to write, and by telling himself that one was the most important  task, he would then contrarily make a beeline for the lesser tasks.  It's the reverse psychology of "eat the frog first."  And it's a technique I use every day. 
Writing is a case in point.  Back in the day, when I was writing a paper, I would settle myself on the floor by an end table in the lobby of the Fine Arts building.  I knew everyone passing by, and I would thus have a built-in distraction.  Or, if the traffic was light, I'd go to the practice rooms and find my latest crush object.  And, with these breaks, the paper would get written.
Today, as a solitary nomad, distractions are of the virtual type.  I post a picture and respond to comments.  I send my daily email to the Gang of 4.  I check up on other friends.  I write my blog while waiting for a Tutor.com client to log in.  And eventually I get back to the work at hand, the work that actually pays me something, the commissioned book.

Email letter to B:
You asked about the book I'm writing, and instead of writing it right now I'm writing about it to you!  :)
It’s called Famous Faces and their families. 25 people to research, along with up to 12 people in their family tree. Left hand page has a big illustration of a key event, plus a 150-word bio and two 50-word sidebars. Right-hand side has a family tree with captioned face-medallions and 150-word description of the family. I do the research and words, someone else does the illustrations, using my research (I find pix of people and events), R edits and pulls it all together. It’s her imprint, Wide Eyed books.
I’m enjoying the process, but it’s so hard to distill a complicated life into 150 words. And Cleopatra's family was horrible! How does one write about incest at a 10-year-old reading level? Does one even try?
It's good for me to edit my convoluted syntax into a concise yet engaging text. I get better at it, and wish I could go back and redo some of the first things I wrote at first.  But R is an excellent editor, so they have been fixed en route.
Sadly, some of the people we wanted to write about don't really have family trees we can work with. Slaves, for example, have little by way of documentation, unless you are Alex Haley and can work with the oral history.
Anyway, it's both interesting to do the research and frustrating to condense it all into a few sentences.  Even nonentities can't be summarized adequately in 150 words!  It's a new way of looking at writing and research.
And I'd best get down to it.  This week's writing awaits.

Lilting names

When I introduce myself to the Opplanders I meet, they  recognize me as Norwegian...except they don't because I don't speak a word of it.  So, they look at me quizzically, and I explain that my MorMor was born in Valdres and my FarMor's family came from Nordfjord.  And then I realize that I have no idea where my FarFar's family lived.  But no one questions that.  They  all nod and say, so, you are visiting family?  Well, no, I'm not.  And then I try to explain the concept of being a nomad and they nod again, but I can tell that they are totally puzzled; so are many of my acquaintance, of course. 
In corresponding with the genealogists among the Klemmetsrud descendants, I discovered that "rud" means clearing or field, so Klemetsrud (my MorMor's maiden name) is Klemet's (or Klement's) clearing. Most Norwegians used a patronymic, with a place name attached, and the first name was usually the grandparent's name, so you have a series of johan oleson, ole johansson names. Thus, place names and dates are vital for genealogists. I love how connected we used to be to our land and our ancestors.
Or in some cases, the connection was to attributes. When I was in Dromara, my friend E wrote: "I am expecting you to assist my Irish pronunciation after this. I am a quarter and I cannot even figure out how to pronounce the family name. It is Cuchogaidh--'hound of war" most appropriate for me really."  Yes, most appropriate, and quite lovely.  My understanding, from various indices in various fictional works, is that the Gaelic Ch is a glottal "h" and the dh a voiced "th," thus cu HO guhth. But don't quote me.  
I listen to the Norwegian around me, and it has no meaning, even though I can figure out some of the written Norwegian.  The lilt is a pronounced sing-song.  The vowels end in a broad r sound, the Ts are very crisply pronounced, the Ss quite sibilant.  I recognize my Minnesota family speaking rhythms, even though they were talking in English. But that is all I recognize.  
So many people speak excellent English, and they pamper me.  The conductor of the orchestra started giving directions in English, and I'm positive it was for my benefit.  So kind of them, but it means I have no incentive to learn the language.  During the coffee break I asked how to say "excuse me" and they said something that sounded German:  "entschuldigen Sie" only with softer syllables.  Then they laughed and said, "or you can say 'Sorry'!"  
So, sorry, I think I'll remain an arrogant American and expect everyone to speak English. 

Nordic Ambient

I logged into my tutoring session this morning, and as I waited for a client, I started to work on my daily blog journal.  It's part of my routine, to record my day by copying and pasting email messages and Facebook posts into the draft of the monthly journal post.  Sometimes I find the kernel of a separate post, and that goes into another draft post, sitting there for weeks until I find the time or inspiration to write more fully on the topic.  Today, however, I started writing, instead of cutting and pasting. I had nothing much to share from yesterday, so I thought I'd explore why. 

Am I entering into the internal discovery mode? I'm not exploring outwardly, but perhaps I'm thinking and experiencing inside. If so, it's so deep inside that I can't locate it and write about it. The external over-rides the internal. I hear myself thinking about snow, about food, about wood, about routines, about words.  I have jobs to do (tutoring, writing the book, caring for the house and cats), but the main one seems to be myself:  I need to be sure I exercise and take care of my body (yoga? tai chi chih? walking? eating less fat and sugar?  probably all of the above.)  I also need to look into my sleep patterns and screen time.  I seem to be napping a lot during the day, and at night I'm waking up and snacking and playing online Sudoku or solitaire while listening to YouTube Judge Judy.  Surely this can't be the way I want to spend my time?  And it's certainly nothing to write about. But the screens call to me.  I'm addicted, like so many of us, to the instant gratification of the Internet, not to mention the mindlessness of the interaction. My brain and emotions are disengaged, even when playing Words With Friends.  And Judge Judy is just a drone with the occasional outburst, "What are you, CRAZY?"  "Don't bother the courts with your meshugas!"  I love it when she goes all yente.

Beyond the mindless entertainment, though, I think a large part of the call of the computer is how very accessible and easy it is.  In addition to distracting me from things like reading and sleeping and thinking, it takes over my more active moments.  It's like I can't do anything without recording it instantly.  Yes, that's part of experiencing the world, but it's not all of it.  The visual arts are a prime example.  If I want to process an image with the computer, I just pull up the image and start.  And once I'm done, I can instantly share it. I don't have to set up anything. I don't have to locate the pens or the paints or the papers or fix the chemistry for the darkroom or push the cat away from the paper.  No letting the paper dry, or setting up a photo session. It's done, it's out there, feeding the other Internet addiction, the collection of comments and "likes."  As a friend noted, I feel so absurdly gratified when certain people like my work. Yet, the very ease of it all cheapens the product.  I have taken and posted countless snow pictures, for example.  They all run together.  There is no choice, no editing.  I get the buzz from the instant attention, but what have I achieved, artistically?

The blog is a more thoughtful place, but even that is problematic. So much of it is just a routine.  I listen to Sami joik or other Nordic ambient music.  I gather together the thoughts I have shared with friends and with Facebook.  But, I don't delve.  I don't listen to the music, and I don't listen to the thoughts.  I let them swirl around me. I don't settle down with them and immerse myself. 

Is it enough to just rest in the ambience?

February journal, Norway Month 1

I've been here since January 22, but this is the first full month.
Feb 1

should have schlepped the wood last night

To the Gang:
It’s Thursday here, Wednesday there. This message is for both days.
It must have snowed a foot yesterday! I’ll be taking pix when the light reappears.
This is my morning routine:

• Put fish in the plastic bowl
• Heat water in the electric kettle
• Pour water over fish, covering completely
• While fish cooks, build fire in the stove.
• Leave door open a crack so flames can breathe and get a good start for the day.
• Start water for coffee.
• Rinse cooked fish in cold water.
• Portion fish into metal cat bowls.
• Set bowls on floor far apart for cats, who have been nibbling toes (mine) and weaving in and out
• Make coffee and breakfast (usually toast)
• Eat, read, watch fire, watch sunrise, check out snow levels, feed fire, tutor, write, document.

Repeat last item at intervals throughout the day, interspersed with shoveling, walking, various domesticities.
There, you don’t need to read my emails for the next month!

Reply to G's comments:
Of course the cats are spoiled! this is a petsitting gig, after all. Pet owners are quite fussy. Not that I blame them. So, they get the fish in the morning, and dry food in the afternoon. Or in my case, when they start whingeing and staring meaningfully at me.
This week there are military schools scheduled to come online, so they added hours. I had 6 hours yesterday, and 6 today and 3 tomorrow, added to my usual 6 in a week. I did miss a few weeks in December because of the laptop fiasco, but basically I'm averaging $240 a month: not gobs of cash, but it covers my few extravagances and serves the main purpose off connecting me with people and engaging my brain.
The book is going so well! R showed me the cover and title page. It's going to be a beautiful book, IMHO. She'd written an inaccurate blurb about me that made me sound like a writer! I had to correct some of that (she had the degree and college wrong) but the hyperbole I left alone.
I'm actually ahead of the schedule, which allows for me to be done in April. I hope to finish before P gets here, so I can take advantage of her presence.
I'm glad for the snow, as I really don't feel like doing anything, and it gives me an excuse to stay in and read and write. And it's beautiful, too. I can't describe the soft brilliance of the light: it's a contradiction. And it's so very quiet. No cabin fever, but a little insomnia, which is fine, because hey, I'm retired! Sorta.

Today's exercising: shoveling the 10+ inches of snow. Still falling...


Feb 2
I didn’t have tutoring until 5 pm, but the cats got me up at 7 to feed them. The moon was setting, and the colors were soft and opalescent. I couldn’t get a reasonable picture.

Soft, penetrating,
Radiant silver-blue gleam:
Moon sets over snow.

When I fall asleep
It’s still snowing hard. I wake
To watch the moon set

Then I watched the sun rise and it was a beautiful clear day.

Does Groundhog’s day count
Outside the US? Because
It’s sunny today.

🙀❄️

But I was sooo sleepy I dozed until about 1. Leo joined me.

The Leo Sequence:
He revels in my sloth and
Then displays his own.

Then I pulled myself together and did some chores, taking out recycling, shoveling the 1 inch of snow that fell after yesterday’s work. Scary amount of snow on the roof, but reportedly the roof can handle up to 10 meters.

Then I went for a walk to the store: more chocolate, some flour for baking, cottage cheese. The two day snowstorm blanketed the landscape, glittering in the sun. I was reminded of merinques and sugar cookies. And as I walked in the road, with snow piled up to 5 feet, I thought about Mom's stories of sledding on snow piles in International Falls. I met 5 snow plows of varying sizes and 3 lumber trucks, mainly empty. At the end I picked up the mail. Our mailbox says Hauge place! Well, hill place. No wonder I feel at home.


It looks like a path that I should explore. Maybe later.



Tutored for 3 hours. Now time for bed.

Feb 3

Stayed in my jammies until 1 pm. Did 2 loads of laundry, which involves steep narrow stairs that are open on one side and turn at the bottom. Also involves knocking and calling “Ina?!” to let the renter know you’re coming into her space: the laundry and the freezer are both part of her apartment. And then you have to remember to turn on the water and also to turn it off. Which, as I type this, I realize I did not do. But it’s too late to go down now.

It was a pretty day, but I took migraine meds so I stayed in and watched Netflix and finished knitting the hood for my exceedingly warm but weird sweater: my own design.

I made dumplings and had a fun time trying to locate the baking powder: all I could find was natron, aka baking soda. It reminded me of the time E came to Norway with packets of white stuff and son J got patted down in her place. Was it baking powder you were bringing in?

It’s an adventure, cooking in a language you only vaguely know. I was able to ID white (qvit) flour (mehl) and eggs are obvious, but...it’s part of the adventure!

Got another 5-star Trusted Housesitters review, this time from Macclesfield

Feeling grateful. Surgical patient #1 should be home now, surgical patient #2 due home Wed. Long distance angst is assuaged.


Feb 4
This morning I tutored for 2 hours. I’ve tutored one girl several times in the last few weeks. She’s writing a story. It’s fun to see it evolve.

Then I decided to do some housework. I hated to do it, because the cats looked so comfy and I knew they’d flee when I started up the Hoover.

The idyll before the

Entrance of the Hoover beast.

Apocalyptic.
Once the house was orderly, I tried to clear some snow from the roof, using a rake and a hoe, but the only way to really do it is to use a ladder and climb up there. So I won’t be doing that. I did get most of the gutters cleared. It was fun. Snow squeaking underfoot, sparkling, falling in chunks and feathers (depending on where I was excavating). Looked like a blue-white Grand Canyon at one point.

Because I burned so many calories, I decided I could make fudge. While doing that, I listened to Mari Boine, a Sami joiker. Later on I noticed that clouds were very pretty, so I walked down to the lake. It was about 3:30 pm, but late afternoon, pre-sunset.

It was around -10 degrees C, so I didn’t stay out for the sunset. Instead, I watched it from the house, while eating a grilled cheese and sun dried tomato sandwich. The delicate colors are dawn-like, but that’s what it’s like


I wonder if I’ll
Ever tire of northern light
Over northern snow
 
All in all, an excellent day. But I’m too tired to write and work on some financial record keeping. So, I’ll read and go to bed early.
Feb 5
Started conserving wood today. This is the message I sent my hosts:
This is how much wood is left, not counting whatever is in the wood shed down the hill. FYI, Meg and I have burned about a bag a day, so I estimate a little over a week is left. Should I be conserving? I build a fire when I get up to feed the cats at 7 and stop burning around 8pm and go to bed around 10. Should I use a space heater instead? Answer: Yes, use more sparingly and top off with the space heater; the wood they laid in for Meg would normally last them several months. No need to go full blast.
Sigh. I do love me a roaring fire, but I was actually too warm. So, sweaters and lap robes it is!

To the gang:

No pix, new news. Spent about 3 hours tutoring one student, and that’s all I’ve done. The day just oozed away. It was grey and cold, so nothing pulled me outside. I read and worked on the blog and finished watching Star Trek Discovery. Tried Lilyhammer, but Netflix didn’t have Season 1, so I started with Season 2. I think I need the setup from Season 1. I was unhooked.

That’s about it. Good night.

Feb 6
I was busy writing and researching all day. I need to walk to the store, both for exercise and for more food. I'm running low on Vitamin Cs (cheese and chocolate). And I could probably use some veggies too. Plus, I need the exercise. I only left the house to chop some kindling and bring in the wood and the mail.

It was a grey day, but at sunset a brilliant streak of light bisected the clouds.

A stripe of yellow
Across the lowering clouds
Hope at the day’s end

Feb 7

Floating in routine:
Like the light through the window,
I am brought up short.

Feb 8
To the gang
Sorry, I didn't get a message off to you all. I was busy writing and researching all day and just forgot. Today I'll be doing the same, but I'll need to walk to the store, both for exercise and for more food. I'm running low on Vitamin Cs (cheese and chocolate). And I could probably use some veggies too. Plus, I need the exercise. Yesterday I only left the house to chop some kindling and bring in the wood and the mail.

Feb 8 letters
To Meg

Thanks for the message! All is well. I actually haven't driven anywhere: I have some writing to do and I am enjoying the house. So, I walk to the little store to get my exercise. The cats are doing well. Lilly sleeps with me and both cuddle sweetly. I'm attaching a picture from this morning. They took over the blanket on one couch, so I've had to move to the other. The stove is working fine, but I am apparently using too much wood. The wood they laid in for you was supposed to last several months, but I was using a bag a day (and I think you were too?) So now I am damping it down more and it is not as warm. I'm using the space heater as well in the living area.


The Snuggle Sequence

Yes, lots of snow! They asked me to get out a rake and pull off some of the snow from the roof. It really wasn't enough to do any good, but I am not going to climb a ladder for anyone! I cleared the gutters that I could reach around the house and at the front of the garage.
I hope you are both well. It was a pleasure to meet you!

To V:
Yikes! I always knew being active was bad for one's health. I'm glad the knee prognosis is good. I just realized, my tailbone is no longer a problem: it's been okay since mid-January. Physically I probably could have managed the Japan gig just fine, but I'm glad I got to visit Oxford, Macclesfield, and Glasgow, especially now that I'm in a mountain fastness for 3 months. I think that spending the holidays in total isolation would not have been a good thing.

More heavy snow headed this way. I don't think I did a good enough job on the roof, so hopefully it will hold up. And hopefully I can stay warm, despite the embargo on wood usage. Or rather, the restrictions: I'm not forbidden.

I've been doing a fair amount of tutoring, and I am suddenly sick of the whole thing. It's important to keep this to a minimum, I think. I get very impatient trying to explain poor syntax, and the constant incorrect usage of the word "how" is driving me nuts. Clearly, my sense of humor is suffering. I really hate working with people who have "unlimited" time sessions: it's very difficult to get away from them!

I also feel like I should be doing more exploration. Just wrote a whiny blog about it. After all, I can write and read anywhere! I don't need to spend big bucks traveling the world to do that. On the other hand, it's nice to have a new place to explore when I get tired of reading and writing. So, I don't know....wouldn't it be better to have a home and friends for those times, rather than wandering the world?

I think too much. I like being a nomad, I just feel like I'm wasting my opportunities. But I've felt that way for years. Too many distractions, so little time.
To M:
My bus acquaintance has talked her boyfriend into loaning me a violin, so I must be brave and drive into town on Mondays. Yay me! It’s time. I’ve spent 2 weeks at home, and even though I’ve been busy with tutoring and writing, I really do need to mix it up a bit. Wish me luck...and courage.
To E:
The advance is in my bank...and with the exchange is close to $7000.
That should keep me going for 3-4 months. :)
re: Skyping...I'm working on the book, and am ready for any break you and D wish to provide.
I walked to the store and am preparing for a few more days of heavy snow.

Feb 9
brrrrr...It's icy and windy. No decent pix of sunrise or sunset. The only time I went outside was to get some more wood. I'll need to shovel tomorrow.

Yesterday was good on many levels. In order of importance: My book advance made it into the bank, which is shutting down over the weekend while it changes over to a new name. So, I don't have to redo that paperwork, although I will have to work with G's phone number again to reactivate my online account. (Ready G?! We'll talk...Monday). And the new debit card seems to be in limbo. Damn them anyway. Still....I'll be fine using my credit card until I return in May, and I can always pay that through other accounts. I don't have any big expenses coming up.

I also heard from the cellist that I met on the bus ride in. She is loaning me her boyfriend's violin, and I'll be mustering up the nerve to drive into Gjovik and make some music at the local music school.

I walked to the store and saw some amazing hoarfrost on the trees. I also stocked up on chocolate and cheese and got some real food as well.


Today I finished my work on the JFK pages, just in time. I've started researching my next person, Maria Tallchief. Her native side goes back to her great grandparents, who were full-blooded Osage in Kansas, but the Scots-Irish side goes back over 13 generations. I had a fun time going through those, looking for some sort of theme, but probably I'll just say they wandered around the north of England, Scotland, and Ireland before emigrating to Maryland and then moving on to Kentucky, Illinois, and Kansas. Just your basic UK immigrants.

I'm using a site called Geni.com for some of the research, and just for giggles I looked up the Klemmetsrud family (Mom's mom, for the rest of you.) Someone had Grandma's birth year properly listed, but nothing else. They were more interested in another branch of the family, the Brubakkens, or some such name.
While I'm interested in the genealogy, it's the stories I want, and these people haven't written anything. At least, none that I've found.
Feb 10
In which I have Technical difficulties:
1. The free Norwegian TV does not have Olympic coverage, so I have been watching the olympics on eurosport: had to sign up for it, but I get a free month and I plan to cancel after the Olympics are over. I still can't see everything, and the app doesn't work on my ipad because it doesn't work for a US account. And the european app doesn't work because my apple info is US. and my VPN isn't loading, so I can't hide the fact that I'm in Norway. sheesh. Still, I got to watch some of it, and I don't have to listen to the American announcers and special interest spots. That's all good. In fact, it’s the whole thing, with impartial announcers speaking with an Aussie accent for some reason. And no commercials!
2. I skyped with E an hour ago, and there were technical difficulties there, too: when I could see her, she couldn't see me, and vice versa. We finally logged everything out and back in, and then it worked. I don't get it, but there was something about the camera being hijacked by one of the programs. Anyway, it was good to hear and (eventually) see her.
3. I just sent G info about my bank woes: technical difficulties there are because I don't have access to my phone text.
4. Finally, R has asked me to finish up all my writing in the next few weeks, even though the actual schedule deadline is the end of April. The artist takes a week for each spread, so that's what the schedule was set for. I'm fine with that. The weather is not conducive to going out anyway, so I'll write write write and get it all done. The technical difficulties there are in the transmission of material, especially my rough drawings of the trees. Too bad I don't have software for that.

Feb 11
To S:
How are you and N? I'm doing well. I'll be finishing my part of the book this month, and then P is coming to visit. That will finally get me out exploring. I have access to a violin and an orchestra: the main problem is the 20 minute drive through packed and drifting snow. Even with studded tires, I'm a leetle bit nervous about the prospect, especially since I'll be driving home in the evening. It's just like the situation with Albuquerque Phil! only I have no friends to offer sanctuary. Maybe I'll find a hotel for the night. The cats can manage alone for 12 hours.

I'm trying to watch the Olympics on Eurosport, since the free Norwegian TV is not providing it and I can't seem to get on board with BBC. And, I don't really want NBC's coverage. It's so full of fluff. The problem is that my VPN won't load, so all the sites know I'm in Norway, and I end up with Norwegian language coverage. And, since Eurosport knows I'm from the U.S., some links are blocked there as well. It's frustrating. I'm neither one nor the other.

Right now I'm logged in to Tutor.com, but since It's Sunday, 3 am (or earlier) in the States, I'm not getting much business. So, I'm updating my journal and writing to friends. Hey, that's you!

Feb 12
Snow. Lots of it.

So it’s been snowing for 2 days and still going strong, but this is a fine powder, not much volume. I’m hoping to catch a bus to Gjovik for tonight’s rehearsal: the plow has not taken care of the driveway, and I don’t want to risk the roads anyway.
G, the door pic is proof: that’s what has fallen since I shoveled twice as much yesterday around 3 pm.


It’s supposed to be a laptop, not a cat top.

Feb 12
At the Quality Hotel Strand in Gjovik. I took the bus in and am a 5-minute walk from the bus station and another 5-minute walk from the rehearsal hall. Tomorrow I’ll shop and explore before catching the bus back. It’s a good solution to the snow, although not a cheap one. But I can do this once in awhile. It’s a nice place, has a cinema and spa and a dragon at the reception desk/bar who steered the gent with the beer away from me. I wouldn’t have minded, but such is life.
The bus driver gave me a free ride. He’s from The Netherlands, moved here 10 years ago. There’s a story there, but I couldn’t get at it. He actually lives just down the road from me...I walked past his house on my way to the lake. Small world.


Feb 13
Looked at the conversion rate for the room I booked here, and my jaw dropped. But I am enjoying every bit of luxury I can, to make up for it. The breakfast room was so lovely, and the food was amazing: fresh, multiple loaves of bread that we sliced ourselves, kjotballer, brunost....There was an egg and potato bar, a yogurt and fruit bar, a cheese and metwurst bar, cereal, bread, waffles, gluten free, multi juices. And the dishes were china and the tables and chairs and lighting elegantly comfortable. Still....the last time I stayed in such opulent surroundings I was J's guest at the Tamaya resort outside Bernalillo!

Last night's rehearsal was fun. It's a small orchestra, some professionals, some talented townies like me. There were 3 first violins and 6 seconds, including me, but I saw some empty chairs by the firsts. 4 cellos, 4 violas, 2 bass. The conductor is a gnome-like gent with a tonsure of white fluff and an impish smile. He's a professional who drives up from Oslo. He spoke some English for my benefit, but my stand partner was great about making sure I knew where we were. The loaner violin is very pretty, with inlay on the fingerboard and tail piece. Sounds nice too. Apparently Ida's boyfriend bought it at an auction, along with guitars, but since he doesn't play the instruments, I'm not sure why he bought them. Some language issues in the story I'd guess.

I'm in my tiny and expensive hotel room, watching replays of the Olympics (half pipe qualifiers) and logged in to tutor.com, which is paying for this little jaunt. Next week, if I can't drive in, I'll take a taxi home; at $75, it'll be cheaper!

Watching the rooftop snowblower

J: where are you?
me: Hotel in Gjovik: had a rehearsal last night and didn't want to drive in the snowstorm. Not cheap though: next time I take a taxi home!!
J: rehearsal?
me: I met a cellist on the bus from Gardermoen, and she has loaned me a violin and found me a seat in the small orchestra here in Gjovik. A nice way to get to know the community and get me out of the house.
J: that's what it's all about!

Walk through Gjovik, visit to the bibliotek, stop at Remo 1000


Bus ride through Oppland. I suddenly realize we’re in the mountains, but am too busy gawking to attempt a pic. Snow smooth, draped and glittering, like boiled frosting or meringue hardened on the fields. Saw brown rough-haired horses clustered by hay blocks in farmyards. Woods deep and magical, tall skinny pines with fat lumps of snow coating each limb, sun low in the sky, gleaming gold into the depths.

On my bus ride back I saw two men chatting on a roof in the sun, holding some special snow removal implement (like the one G shared). Clearly, the sun doesn't do squat.

Thinking of Georgia

I shovel quickly
Through the walkway beneath the
Eaves of Damocles.

She takes forever
To settle on my windpipe,
Then claws at my girls.

After 3 days of snow and cloud

Feb 14
For some reason, I'm totally wiped out. I've been sleepy all day. I did get up at 7:30 to feed the cats, and I tutored and wrote from 9-11. After that I just read, and now, at way too early, I can't keep my eyes open. I'll probably go to bed early, and hope for energy tomorrow. I have writing and practising to do!
xo, happy valentine's day.
Oh, G, the bank has not replied. aaaargh

An answer to L's questions about joiking and Sami culture
Hello! Yes, Mari Boine is lovely, isn't she? The book I was reading is The Palace of the Snow Queen, Winter travels in Lapland, by Barbara Sjoholm (who used to write mysteries under the name of Barbara Wilson.) An old dear friend, a golden sister whom I met in my late 20's, gave it to me. The author starts out exploring the Ice Hotel in northern Sweden, and moves into an obsession with Winter and the Sami culture. It was good to read while I was exploring my own winter thoughts. I found myself stopping every time she mentioned an artist, musician, or historical figure, and looking them up. I'm in research mode. Howwever, I find her a little annoying and slight in her insights. So, she's basically a good source for other people. If I really want to think about indigenous people and the cold, I'll stick with Winter Brothers, which remains my favorite book for that.

I just posted a blog entry about snow, and another one about Norwegian sounds and naming conventions. However, a lot of what I'm doing could be done anywhere. I'm loving the house and the lifestyle, which is very basic, but I'm not getting out much. There's just too much snow. I could take public transportation, and I did so on Monday, but I normally am busy until late morning, at which time the bus stops running. And the days are so short, I only have about 3 hours of sunlight after I'm done tutoring and eating lunch. I love the excuse it gives me to sit and read. And I love watching the slanted light and the variations in the snowfall. It just feels right that I'm here. I still have 2 months, and a friend is visiting the end of this month. I'm playing in an orchestra, so I'm getting some community activity, despite my hermit-like behavior.
I'll be at Ghost Ranch starting April 30, and I hope to visit you on some of my weekends off.

Feb 15
I was really sleepy all day, and went to bed at 7:30. But I was listening to an audiobook, so I didn't actually fall asleep until around 10:30 I woke up 2 hours later with an anxiety attack. Damn antidepressants. I keep forgetting them. So, I was up for another 3 hours, watching Season 1 of My Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, which I just discovered. It's great: a musical comedy series with at least two big musical numbers per episode. Today it's grey and windy, so snow is swirling off roofs and the trees are losing their flocking.
I received valentines greetings from Barbara, who seems to be doing better, and Lesley who is going to be having a room-mate: her friend Tiffany whom I met in Petaluma. So, all is well!
xo, K

Feb 16

The Face Off. You’d think we only spend our time on the couch. You’d be right.


Was up writing until my eyes glazed over and my brain was mush.

😴 💤 🛏

❤️, K

Feb 17
Another day on the couch...
Hi all, the day started out with fog and hoarfrost. Nice.

Now the sun is shining, which is good because the new wood is really lousy. I need to go out and chop up some kindling to get it going again.
The gent who delivered it snuck in while I was writing, quiet as a mouse. H says he was being a shy Norwegian and avoiding interaction. Makes sense that the only person who has talked with me was the bus driver from the Netherlands. Nothing shy about him!
The cats are having show-downs with the local bully: a fluffy black cat with yellow eyes.
I finished writing a few blogs about Glasgow. E, you might check out the one about whisky, since I had asked your opinion. Because you had none, but thought J might, I'm including him in this message. Hi J! Don't tell me I picked the wrong whisky, please.
Anyway, the entry is called The National Drink.
Must get back to the writing that pays the bills....after I chop some kindling.

A walk on the road towards Gjovik:


Sundog at sunset

basking in the sun, waiting for dinner

Feb 18
To M and L
I've been thinking of the ecstatic trance session, and finally wrote about it on my nomad blog. It's because I realized that I have not been doing much by way of energy work since I saw you last. I wonder why that is? I have plenty of time. Perhaps I lack the motivation? Or the community? But surely I can meditate on my own, even if I'm resistant to doing yoga without someone to talk me through the poses.

So, I'm writing to you both as a virtual way of setting my intention. I will do some energy work. Daily. A walk in the snow does not count (even though it does pull the air into me, and it has its own energetic healing power.)

To the Gang

Dagnabbit!

• My nose is cold. I can't get the fire to burn, even though I went back out to make more little stuff. I need newspaper. Or lighter fluid. Or better wood.
• For the last two mornings I've awoken to an hours-old message from my aurora-predictor app. "If it's not cloudy, you have a chance to see an aurora in the next hour."
• It's been cloudy for the last two nights.
• The message comes when I'm asleep.
• Do I need to set an hourly alarm to check for possible aurorae?
• I can't read the violin music (two of the parts are hand-written spider scratches) but it looks like it's way up in the stratosphere. This is 2nd violin, we're not supposed to go higher than third position. The cats look at me indignantly when I come back from a practise session.
• My tutoring sessions keep losing connection. This means poor ratings and less $$$.

and that's today's whine from Norway.
Feb 19
I should just go out to gather some fresh air into my being. but...brrrr.

A busy day
I wrote, split kindling, caught the bus to Gjøvik, shopped at Remo 1000, read at the bibliotek, and rehearsed. Turns out, the scary music was a bad photocopy: page 1 was 2nd violin, and the rest was 1st. My stand partner is going to scan it for me. Next week is a school holiday, so no rehearsal. Only 2 rehearsals left!
My stand partner drove me home: so very kind! She had snow in her tires, so it was a bumpy ride, but really the roads, though icy, weren’t bad. next week I’ll get the courage to drive in and pick up P at the bus station.
Attached are pix from the bus, and our break. I donated pepper cookies (ginger snaps) to the break.

The aurora app says that I could be seeing Aurora...except it’s cloudy and snowing. Sheesh
Feb 20
reply to my aunt's WHERE ARE YOU? message
Yikes! I didn't realize so much time had passed. Everything is blurring into one long day of feeding cats and feeding fires and shoveling snow. And writing. Rachel wants me to finish up my part of the book by the end of the month, and I have 4 people to go.
I'm still in Landasbygda, the small settlement to the north of Gjovik. It's still snowing. It's still beautiful, but I haven't mustered the nerve to drive anywhere else. I took the bus into town last week and this week and rehearsed with the Gjjovik symphony It was nice to have the chance to play violin again, and the conductor was very sweet about speaking in English for the first rehearsal. Last night he did not, but my lovely stand partner kept me on track, and she also drove me home. That saved me $140 for a hotel room! and we had a chance to chat.
There are actually a fair number of expats here. I met a woman from Germany, another from the Netherlands, and my first bus driver was also from the Netherlands. Apparently it's quite crowded there, and they like the more open spaces of the Norwegian Oppland.
You asked if I'm still looking for family stories, and yes indeed, I would love the information. I'm working on the book first, but that is my next project.
I'm attaching some snow pictures. I gather that snow has arrived in Portland, but it cannot compete! I hope you are enjoying the freedom of living downtown during the weather changes! The one of the house is my home. I was actually taking a picture of the metal arbor that is almost completely buried now! Most of that is from the plow, which carves out the driveway and then blows the snow out the side in a cascade that piles up along the edge and creates the canyon effect.
I have an app on my phone that tells me when conditions are right for an aurora, but it's been cloudy. So, no aurora for me!.  and that's my news. Love you! Send me some news, too.

My shoulder is trapped.
I can’t type so I’ll nap....on
A purry pillow.

It’s snowing again.The wood has low BTUs.
I should shut the door.

The cats are so sweet!

The love of a cat:
I sent this pic to my hosts and got this reply..
“Looks like we just lost our cat to you. Are you sure you won't stay on forever? I think both of them would approve if you did.”
I emoticon-laughed and said sure, they just need to talk to immigration..
It’s nice to be appreciated.

Finished another bio:  4 to go!

Feb 21
No News.
Zip. Nada Zilch.

• G:  I hope you're not bored.
• me: Never! I was reading and writing all day. A good day, just not newsy.

Feb 22

The sun is shining quite gloriously.  This means two things

1.  I'll have to go for a walk

2. I won't need to use as much wood.

Right now I'm logged in to Tutor.com. I love getting paid to sit here and write to my friends and family!  Except I don't get paid as much.  sigh.  Meanwhile, I received a message from the Tutor.com managers yesterday, asking if I might consider taking the Essay Writing College Level exam, as they need more tutors at that level.  I did, and I passed, so I guess that will potentially add the all-nighter crowd.   Maybe I'll tell them to go get me a donut: I still remember making 4 am donut runs into Galesburg after pulling an all-nighter.  It was a classic.  The donuts were the type that ONLY taste good fresh out of the vat. 

I'm not looking forward to tutoring at that level, actually:  most of the exam questions centered around APA and MLA style, and that's so tedious.  It's up to them to check the stylebooks, IMHO. I spent enough tiime at UNM Taos fussing over that.  Maybe I'll send Tutor.com the color-coded examples I created....

I spent all day yesterday listening to another Tana French audio-book.  She writes psychological detective stories, based in Dublin, and the great thing about listening to them is hearing the accents. The readers have all been fabulous. In this one, it's a vital part of the plot:  the detectives put on a particular accent to throw people off the track. 

That being said, I don't like this protagonist as much as I did the Cassie Maddox/Rob Ryan characters.

Okay, that's today's message.  All well on the Norway front.

These colors are real,
Heralding a sunny day.
Must I go outside?

around the house

stripes and shadows on a short cold walk

a glorious sunset
Feb 23

I spent yesterday writing writing writing until about 3 pm, and then I went for a walk, watched an incredible sunset and listened to the audio book.  I took it to bed with me and woke up at 2 am, realizing I'd let it run through several chapters unheard.  Sheesh.

The cats dragged me out of bed for the 7 am feeding, but instead of building a fire out of the crap wood, I went back to bed, setting the alarm for the 9 am tutoring session.  That has just finished, and I am considering going back to sleep.  But it's a sunny day, my tummy is growling, and I have writing to do.

It's nice and warm in here, though, and the cats are happily curled up with me.  Maybe I should stop the struggle with the fire and stay put.

zzzz

am enclosing some of my favorite pix from yesterday. The Eaves of Damocles are still hanging on the north side of the house, but the railing on the west is clear of snow, and chunks are falling from the roof onto the deck.  Yeah sun!
Feb 24
I’m trying to finish researching Nelson Mandela’s family (22 texts done, 3 to go!), but silly Lilly has other ideas.

Why I never get anything done

 

Finished the audio-book, starting another.
It’s a bitter cold, grey day, but I managed to get a fire going, so the lack of sun shouldn’t be a problem.  Heavy snow in the forecast.
And that’s all I want to thumb type.

Response to M's comments on this:

The violin is less interesting than the writing and reading, for sure.  And it's a pity, because I have the violin, and the music needs to be practised.  I really do find it difficult to work at things that require regular application, not to mention set-up.  And that don't have instant gratification.  And that make the cats jittery.  :)

Oaxaca sounds excellent.  I think you're making the right decision, and I know I'll see you on other occasions. Ghost Ranch wants me to take myself away on weekends, so I'll probably jaunt down to Albuquerque regularly (although I'm hoping L has space in Taos....she may not since she has T moving in.)  And, of course, I want to spend time with the folks at Wit's End.
I'm not really a course junkie like you.  I do enjoy taking classes, but I think I prefer the way classes work at the college level:  several weeks, each class building on the next, with breaks for other things.  Conferences and courses enervate me for some reason, although I very much enjoyed the gamba conclaves I attended.  Maybe because that was more about making music and less about studying.  And, I'm cheap. Not to mention counting my pennies for the next few years.

Okay, back to my book.  :)
Feb 25

Yesterday I hit a wall about 8 pm, so I am behind on my writing schedule.  Today I had 3 hours of tutoring at the college level:  they were painful sessions.  I've never seen such sloppy thinking and resultant sloppy syntax.  It makes me appreciate that, even though my writing is not the best, it at least is reasonably clear.

Speaking of writing, a friend sent me an email about my blog post (Mediocre Travel.)  The key point of her discourse really worked for me:
Each one of us has been allotted a life, a little piece of the great consciousness, and a body to house it. The stewardship of these gifts is our purpose. 

It's what I do believe, deep down, but I get so muddled by the noise of all those voices in my head.  Why do I give them air time?

It's snowing again, and has added a good three inches since last night. I'm going to try to share a video.  I successfully texted it.

Feb 26
To L:

I'm listening to a beautiful youtube of Secolo XXI. It's amazing, but I'm not sure it's the group you're talking about. Reminds me of a record I bought from Barb's German cousin Detlev on our 1981 Eurorail tour through Europe's hostels.  The group was called Ougenweide.  I wish I still had the album. I have no idea what happened to it.  I found another recording of the actual piece, and it's delightful. Thank you for sharing your discovery!

My friend arrives on Wednesday, so I'm slogging through the last 3 texts for the book.  And then I'll go out into the snow with an intrepid companion.  Yeah!

It continues to snow, I continue to avoid practising, the cats continue to sit on my chest and prevent me from working.  All good. I'm including a few recent pictures.
To the Gang:

Not isolated at all!

The great thing about traveling in the 21st century is the way you are connected! 

• L sent me information about a lovely Italian composer Fillippo Azzaiolo and a madrigal group, Secolo XXI.  I'm not sure I found them, but I'm loving the composer's music, courtesy of YouTube.
• The Llibrary Link of the day told me about  menu libraries. https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/menus-unusual-libraries
• Goodreads continues to share wonderful book reviews by friends, and P regularly texts other recommendations. Hoopla and Overdrive obligingly give me the books online.
• And of course, there's tutor.com.  I'm logged in for a solid 4 hours.  Gawd.  But I'll have a big check, which will be nice.  Norway is not cheap, even if you don't go anywhere.
• Cats continue to get in the way:  here they are, double-teaming me.

When you need to work
But you’re being double-teamed:
Just drink your coffee

I think I'm spending too much time editing:  i see punctuation everywhere. This is colon.

Feb 27

Message to R:

Norway is cold and snowy. The cats are cuddly. The food is expensive.

Tomorrow my friend Phyllis arrives and she plans to drag me out onto the icy roads to explore. That's probably a good thing. Right now my pattern is

• Get up at 7 to feed the cats who've been bumping on me for an hour.
• Try to get a reasonable fire going.
• Settle with computer to tutor or research the book.
• Send a message to the Gang who is tracking me, update the blog/journal
• around noon, fix something to eat and read or listen to a book. Depending on my mood, spend the rest of the day doing that, or go back to writing.
• At some point go out to shovel snow, walk (sometimes to the store half a mile away), and split kindling.

I've rehearsed twice with the orchestra and have two more rehearsals. I bus into Gjovik. The first time I bused back the next day, the second time my stand partner drove me home. I'm not being good with practising!
Today I need to do some housework. I'm working on the Lincoln text and hope to finish it today, but I doubt that I'll be able to finish before P arrives. Is it okay if I wait until after her departure to finish up Lincoln and Ned Kelley? I know I promised to be done by the end of Feb, and she'll understand if I leave her to her devices for a day.
Are you still planning to visit? If not, can I trouble you or E to track down a few things and mail the to me? My rush pack job missed a sock or two, and a hat. :)
Can you send a pic or two of V? I'm missing out on the stages, and that's just wrong.
Love you!!!
Feb 28
Yesterday I focused on tutoring, cleaning, and writing.  Sadly, I did not finish the latter.  I’m getting ready to take the bus into Gjovik after this tutoring non-session ends, and while I wait for P I’ll try to finish up Lincoln.  Then I have one more.
Here are pix of the sunset and what happens when you push a cat away.

She's here!

To my hosts

My friend is here! The cats love her. She’s cold blooded tho, so I’d like to buy some more wood so she can be comfortable. So far I’ve been conserving, but it’s -10 even on sunny days. Here are some pix she took...