Strollers

Most of the baby strollers in Norway look like something from old British movies from the 1940s.  They seem like small automobiles to me, as they take up an inordinate amount of space.  I’m sure they aren’t very portable and couldn’t possibly fit in the back of any Norwegian car.   The main body is larger than most bassinets with a huge arching cover over half of it. The wheelbase is enormous and the wheels don’t pivot.  This is to help navigate snow and ice in the winter.  It’s certainly made to be an “off road” vehicle as they find their way far out in nature – places I, as an American, would never think they should go.  They also come with huge rain covers, as nothing will stop a Norwegian from going for a walk outside with their baby.

The malls are full of these huge strollers as mothers gather to enjoy their nine to twelve months paid baby leave.  My biggest complaint about these monstrosities is how difficult they are to get around when blocking an aisle.  Due to Norwegian “politeness rules,” one would never say, “excuse me” and expect anyone to move an inch, so, if two or three carriages are stopped together, they become impassible.  I just turn around and head the opposite direction.

The first time I saw a father pushing a baby carriage in Norway, I wondered what the mother had to do to convince him to do that.  What I didn’t know at the time, was just how common a sight that would be.  The mothers aren’t the ones convincing the father’s to push the stroller, the government is.  Fathers get five months off with paid leave, so they take it once the mothers go back to work. The government has their ways of leveling the parental playing field.  Taking the baby out for a stroll on one of the many walking paths meandering throughout each and every community, becomes a favorite activity during this “Papa time.”

Passing any “barnehagen,” aka, day care centers, one sees a row of these Norwegian baby carriages all lined up.  The shocking part is - there are babies inside them – even in the winter. Norwegians believe babies sleep better when breathing fresh, cold air, so they wrap them up in wool long johns and tuck them in their carriages with lambskin or reindeer hide under them and several inches of goose down comforters over them.  They put a wool hat on their head and leave them out in the cold.  People don’t steal babies in Norway, but still, the very sight of it is enough to make an American mother’s heart stop. 

Often baby carriages, with babies inside, will be seen at the entrances to stores, as the parent goes in to shop, leaving their baby on the sidewalk outside.  We Americans call that “child abandonment.”  Norwegians call it a “good nap.”

Kos

Not that long ago, a story in a Norwegian newspaper talked about words that were distinctly Norwegian, that don’t translate well into other languages.  The number one word that beat out all other words in the category of describing Norwegian life was the word “kos” (pronounced “koose” like moose).  Based on my experiences in Norway, it’s one of the most frequently used words as well and it has no decent translation.

There are several ways of using the word in its various forms and every one of them means something pleasant.  “Koselig” (koosh-lee) means something like “cozy” but with more enjoyable undertones.  When someone is talking about a wonderful experience they’ve had, they might refer to it as “koselig.” Houses are often referred to as “koselig” and I’ve even heard people use that word to describe other people.

Another all too often used expression is “kos deg” (pronounced  “koose die”) which means “have fun” or “enjoy yourself.”  When someone is heading out the door to go somewhere, that’s a common thing to say when sending them off.  When they return from wherever they went, whether it was to another country, or just a walk around the block, they often say, “Vi kost oss” which is pretty much saying, “We enjoyed ourselves.”  When meeting someone, it’s proper to say, “Koselig å hilse på deg” which translates as, “Nice to meet you.”  

The “kos” word is highly overused in my estimation.  It makes me think the Norwegians don’t have a very descriptive vocabulary when they find so many different ways to use the same word, but then maybe I’ve just never fully understood it’s richness.  It’s a word that brings joy to a Norwegian’s face, similar to what lutefisk does on Christmas day.  It’s a word the dictionary describes as “cozy or comfortable” or “nice, pleasant” or “a greeting.”  Yes, it is all those things, but so much more. 

The ultimate image of a “koselig” place and experience would be a log cabin up in the mountains surrounded by snow. Family or friends provide the greeting, a fire is burning in the stone fireplace, candles glow in the windows and on tabletops and the smell of cardamom bread and coffee hang in the air.  Now that’s my kind of “koselig.” I think it’s those “koselig” experiences in Norway that keep drawing me back.  No one does “koselig” like the Norwegians.

My Norwegian friends on Facebook often post photos of just a candle burning, or a cup of coffee, with only the word, “kos” under it.  They are telling the world that life doesn’t get much better than this simple pleasure.  I wish we Americans were that easy to please.

The Magnus Report

The way America and Norway handle bullies at schools couldn’t be more opposite.  Norway has acknowledged that bullying is becoming more of a problem, yet they do nothing more than have all the kids sign an “anti-bullying” contract at the beginning of the year. Immigrants are often the targets of bullying and my son was no exception.

One day Kaleb came home in tears just because kids excluded him from kicking around a soccer ball.  He asked why he couldn’t join them and they said, “Because you aren’t Norwegian.”  He tried to explain he was actually 75% Norwegian, but they apparently had no tolerance for foreigners on their playground that day.

Kaleb was also a “big hit” with a boy in his class named Magnus, who found Kaleb’s sweet face irresistible.  He often punched it for the oddest reasons. One time it was because Kaleb parked his bike next to his, another time because he was standing behind him in line. When Kaleb came home from school each day, I always asked him about “The Magnus Report,” as it came to be known.

The day Kaleb told me Magnus came at his throat with a pair of open scissors, was the day I decided the “zero tolerance” policy they have for bullying at school, was just not enough. I made an appointment with the principal to tell him just how we deal with such things in America. It fell on deaf ears. When I suggested a consequence like having Magnus stay inside during recess if he punched or kicked or threw rocks at my sweet boy, the principal kindly thanked me for my suggestion, then told me why it wouldn’t work.  In Norway, everyone is treated the same, and if Magnus were singled out and punished for his behavior, he would feel different, and that is just not how they do things in Norway.

When I talked to Magnus’s mother about the scissors-to-the-throat incident, she apologized, but then I noticed Magnus was at a birthday party that evening. If my son had attacked another kid with scissors at school that day, I’m certain he wouldn’t be attending a party that night. Magnus’s mother didn’t want him to feel left out just because of his “impulse control problem.”

One day when Kaleb had been clobbered by three different kids, he cried as he recounted the events. I told him I thought maybe we should just go back to America because we didn’t move to Norway to have him become a punching bag, and we were free to leave at any time.  Kaleb’s response surprised me. “Hey,” he said, “there are a hundred kids in the fourth grade, and there are only three of them that are a problem. Do you think I’m going to let those three kids ruin it for the other ninety-seven that like me? I don’t want to go back home just because I get beat up!”

I was quite proud of Kaleb for tolerating Norway’s “zero tolerance” policy.

Person Numbers

When we bought a condo in Norway for my husband’s elderly aunt in 1999, we were required to sign up with the “people register” office, in order to complete the transaction.  It’s impossible to do any legal business in Norway without a “person number.”  They are Norway’s version of our social security number, and obviously used for tax purposes, but they also have a twist.  The number can change, as the status of the person changes. 

The very first thing anyone must do when planning to live, go to school, or conduct any business in Norway, is to get that number, as it’s required in order to get a cell phone, internet service, a bank account, a car, or even a library card, a bus pass or a post office box.  

Norway has embraced the technological age so that everything is on-line and connected with some master computer somewhere in the land.  It’s a good system in one way because illegal immigrants can’t do a whole lot in Norway because they don’t have a number, but it’s a bad system if you don’t want the government to know every little detail about your life.  We have nothing to hide, so it doesn’t bother us, but there’s not much a person does in Norway that goes unnoticed by the government.  America calls this “spying,” but since Norway does it so openly, it’s just a part of their socialist life and they accept it – like it or not.

The first six digits of the “person number” starts with the birthdate, and then five unique numbers follow.  If a person is a foreigner, then they substitute the very first number in the series with the number six, so everyone they do business with will know their status.  Temporary residents, college students, refugees and asylum seekers have yet a different beginning number so they are also quickly identified.  The person number can be a bit discriminatory because of this coding system, however.

Our first set of numbers clearly identified us as foreigners, but years later when we applied and received permission to go live in Norway, our numbers changed to reflect our status as that of permanent residents.  Prior to that change, we were unable to get cell phone service or car insurance because we were foreigners.  The numbers also tie us together as a family somehow.  It’s big brother all the way.

Illegals in Norway obviously don’t have person numbers or they wouldn’t need to sit on the sidewalks and beg.  If they had a number, the socialist government would give them all they needed to survive, as homelessness is illegal in Norway.  

The fastest way to get a “person number” is to get a job.  The slowest way is to ask for one.  It took 18 months of waiting, once we’d applied for permission to live there, before we got approved.  While the Norwegian government may be a bit on the intrusive side of things, they certainly aren’t quick about it.

Prices

One of the biggest shocks a person gets upon their first visit to Norway is not the jaw dropping beauty of the land, but the price they must pay to be there.  This reality slaps one in the face in the airport even before stepping foot on Norwegian soil.  A small bottle of water, the kind we Americans are used to buying in bulk at Costco and paying less than four dollars a case for, costs a whopping seven dollars for just one bottle in Norway.  Of course, that’s the airport price.  At regular stores it’s only about five bucks a bottle.  It often takes the fun out of being there for a budget minded person like myself, if I must think about the cost of things, so I usually don’t.  I stopped doing the Norwegian kroner to American dollar conversion long ago, as I’ve learned, when we are there, to just buy only the things we absolutely need, and forget about how much it costs.

But still, when our toilet seat cracked and we needed to replace it, I couldn’t help but do the conversion.  For just the ordinary run-of-the-mill plastic toilet seat, it set us back $125.  I was thinking they could have embedded a little gold around the rim for that price.  It was hard to sleep that night.  As was the night we took our car in for an oil change and it cost $300.

The price of food in Norway runs three to four times more than what we pay in America.  Most of their food is imported, so their 300% import tax is what drives those prices up.  Norwegian made food, however, is much more affordable, assuming you like the kinds of things they eat.  Dairy items are considered a necessity so they are heavily subsidized and only cost about double what we pay in America. 

Organic foods have recently been introduced in Norway, and they too are heavily subsidized because they believe they are better for people and the environment, so organic foods cost exactly the same as non-organic foods.  I found this to be my only joy in grocery shopping as I’m used to paying more for organic food in America.  I wish our government would stop subsidizing corn farmers and start subsidizing organic farmers.  Strange priorities we have here.

It’s hard to pay over four dollars for a can of beans in Norway, but that’s what it costs.  We spend about three thousand dollars a month on food when we are there, but some of that is because the value of the dollar is so low.  The “usual” exchange rate is about seven Norwegian kroner to the dollar, but the past few years we could only buy five kroner with one dollar, so the 35 kroner loaf of bread went from costing five dollars to seven.  

So it’s certainly not cheap visiting Norway, but as the ultimate consolation prize – taking in the beauty of their land is free.