Art

One day in my Norwegian class, The Good Teacher Inga took us all out to an art gallery in town.  She said it’s important we not just learn the language, but that we also learn about the culture of Norway.  There are a LOT of art galleries in town.  In fact, there are a lot of art galleries in all of Norway.  Every Norwegian house I’ve been inside has dozens of original pieces of art hanging on the walls.  Norwegians are crazy about art.  The art we looked at that day was very nice. It would have been nice to afford a painting, but the one I liked best cost thousands of dollars.  Even beginning artists charge at least $300 for a painting and some even charge that for a copy.  Well known artists get thousands of dollars just for their copies, and their original works of art are in the tens of thousands of dollars.

Some lithograph prints in that art studio were done by one of Norway’s most famous artists, Ørnulf Opdahl, - who happens to live in the same area we did.  Each one of his lithograph prints sell for nearly $2,000.  The Queen of Norway likes his work very much, so that surely drives up the price.  His original works of art are in the thirty to a hundred thousand dollar price range, but he has no trouble selling them.  Such is the affluence of Norwegians. 

Norway values art so much, that if someone gets an art degree, the government has a program that will pay the artist a living wage until they sell enough of their work to make it on their own.  Not every artist qualifies, but hundreds do each year.  I think it’s a very interesting concept.  Norway is probably the only country that can pull that off.  I guess it’s similar to the American program with farmers, but the U.S. never pulls the plug on the cash flow when the farmer starts to make a lot of money, like the Norwegian government does with the artists. 

My husband, Kory, got so worried I might actually spend some of his hard earned money on original works of art of Norway, that he began drawing landscape scenes of our town.  Never before in our twenty years of marriage had he drawn a thing, but his tight-fisted nature spurred him on, hoping to squelch the fire burning within me to have some local art.  It worked.  His drawings are amazing, but he swears he’s not an artist.  He likes to tell people he “just draws lines.”  The lines I draw never look like that.

Grades

Surprisingly, Norway has some of the lowest academic scores in Europe.  They’re certainly not dumb or uneducated, it’s just they value things other than what’s covered on standardized tests.  We found out this interesting tidbit the day we had our first conference with Kaleb’s teacher.  She explained that in Norway, the emphasis in education is learning to work together, “And they don’t test for that,” she said rather smugly. 

Each desk in my son’s school was built for two.  Students switched off working in each other’s books.  Whether the answer was right or not, wasn’t the point.  The point was, that they learned to work together to find a solution.  The only thing they are judged on is how well they get along with others.

Many jobs in Norway are like government jobs in America – they are hard to lose.  So they figure when someone gets a job, they may have it their entire life.  If there is one person in the workplace that isn’t a team player, it affects everyone else, so they emphasize cooperation and tolerance.  

From 8^th grade on up, students get graded on a scale from 1-6.  Everyone expects grades in the 3-4 range, which is perfectly acceptable.  It’s not at all like America where we take pride in rising to the top and getting straight As. It’s quite the opposite in Norway - the goal of every student is to be average.

A high school student who is really bright and has worked hard in one subject may end up with a 5, which would be cause for a family celebration, since they are so rarely achieved.  Even more rare, is getting a 6.  No one ever expects anyone to achieve that level.  Why it’s even there, I do not know.  If someone is very gifted in an area, or it’s a subject directly related to their future line of work, it’s possible to achieve a 6 in one class with much effort. People just shake their head when they hear of it, like someone just told them they climbed Mt. Everest in a single day.  It’s considered an impossible feat that no one dare undertake.

Kory’s cousins’ daughter, Hege, is not only smart, but she loves to study.  Every time we see her, she has a textbook in her hand. She lives for academic challenges.  At the end of 9^th grade, she pulled off straight 6’s.  It had never been done in the history of her school.  All the teachers and students raved.  A huge article was written about her in the newspaper, “The Queen of Sixes” it said.  People were in awe and wonder.  The weird thing was, though, that behind her back, they criticized her because in order to get grades like that, it was assumed her social life was suffering.  And in Norway, that’s just not acceptable.

Sundays

Sundays in Norway are somewhat like snow days in the Northwest.  Life just stops.  Everything is very quiet.  Nothing is open, except for a gas station here or there.  Hardly anyone works, except preachers, emergency personnel and the poor folks down at the gas station.  Options are limited, which I discovered, is a good thing.  There is a kind of freedom in having nothing to do.  Families are together.  Hikes happen.  Walks in the rain take place.  Neighbors chat quietly with other neighbors.  It’s a recognized day of rest and Lord help those who disturb it.

It’s against the law in Norway to mow the lawn on Sunday, or do any kind of outdoor activity that would otherwise disturb a neighbor.  It’s also against the law to do laundry or hang it out on the line on Sundays.  I’m glad the “Sunday police” didn’t catch me before I learned about that law. 

Norwegians buy fresh baked bread each and every day, therefore, the few gas stations that are open, also have a bakery behind the counter.  Norwegian’s won’t eat day old bread.  I’ve never been fond of gas station mini-marts before, but it’s hard not to love them when they always smell like fresh baked bread. 

The only downside to Sundays is, if one is having guests over for dinner that night, one must be absolutely certain they have everything they could possibly need to make dinner, since there is no mad dash to the grocery store for that last forgotten item. Besides bread, the gas-station mini-marts pretty much just sell ice cream and candy.  I tried to plan my meals around ingredients I was sure were also stocked in my neighbor’s pantry, just in case. 

We attended church every Sunday while we were living in Norway, which is more than most Norwegians do.  The churches all have cafés in them so people can linger, have lunch, coffee and cake, and just chat with their friends.  There’s rarely a rush on Sundays to get anywhere, unless it’s to have dinner at someone’s home.

I swore, when we moved back home to America, that I would protect the sanctity of Sundays.  I loved how simple they were in Norway, as they truly became a day of rest.  Once we moved back to America, however, it was just so much easier to stop by Costco after church, since we were already in town, fill the car with gas, and run a few errands.  We’ve even been known to do laundry and mow the grass on Sunday, and our neighbors have never once complained.  Is that real freedom?

Mountains

Along the central coast of Norway, mountains rise straight up out of the fjords below.  Every mountain peak has its own name and reputation, and they all have trails to the top.  Every person I met in Norway, living within view of any peak, knows the exact number of hours and minutes it took them to get there.  It’s as if they were born to conquer the mountains.

At every peak there is a notebook and pen encased in a weather proof box, used as a subtle bragging tool.  Columns in the book include date, name, hometown, number of times to that spot, and hours and minutes it took them that day.  Everyone knows who holds the record.

Norwegians all look at their watch the minute they head up a trail.  They are forever wanting to beat their best time.  It’s insane.  The hike up the mountain isn’t about enjoying the journey, smelling the fresh air or stopping to pick wild blueberries, it’s simply to make it to the top as fast as humanly possible.  

 I was embarrassed once when I was 41 and we climbed a mountain with Kory’s 75 year old aunt.  She left me in the dust.  As I was sucking in air as if my life depended on it, she was singing hymns as she passed me.

Once when we were hiking up a nearby mountain, we ran into a 78 year old guy known as the “Incurable Mountain Man.”  He’s been written up in the newspaper many times as he hikes up that mountain nearly everyday – no matter what the weather.  He said the snow will be three feet deep and he’ll be the first one to the top – clearing the trail for others.  When he was 77 he climbed it 340 times, sometimes four times a day.  That same year he’d also hiked to the top of every peak we could see around us, which was way too many to count. 

A friend of ours once pointed to a peak that is 6,000 feet straight up and it took him six hours to ascend it.  His wife’s cousin was able to run it in just one hour and 28 minutes and was disappointed he did not break the record, which stands at one hour and nine minutes.  The man that set that record died a few years ago while he was out running up yet another mountain when it was just too cold to be out doing such a thing.  He himself had a cold and he collapsed and died on the mountain.  He’s considered a local folk hero to this day.   Strange priorities.