Clicks

I had several major “clicks” pertaining to my husband, the year we lived in Norway.  I was not previously aware that many of my irritations with him were just his cultural norm.  Now I know.  

The first click came the day I learned about pronouns in my Norwegian class.  There are different pronouns to say “hers” or “his” of course, but Norwegians use extra pronouns for those same words, depending on whether the “hers” or “his” is the object or subject in a sentence.   

To say “her” as the object, it’s “hennes,” but as the subject, it’s “si.”  Often, when Kory is retelling a story, and there are more than two people of the same gender involved, he completely loses me and I have no idea who did what.  Now I know why - the English language is limited in their use of pronouns.  The Norwegian language makes it much easier to track who the “he” or “she” is in the conversation and since that is my husband’s native tongue, his brain thinks of those language rules first.  When Kory talks in English, he converts everything to just “he” or “she” and while it’s perfectly clear in his mind, I’m always having to ask him, “Who are you talking about?” because he never clarifies by using their names. It’s just so darn irritating.

Another “click” came in the arena of Kory’s palate. When we were first married, I made him some yummy lemon chicken and when I asked how he liked it, all he could say was, “I like my chicken to taste like chicken.”  Apparently the effort I put into marinating the chicken in lemon juice for 24 hours was not appreciated.  After having been around Norwegian food for a year, I now realize they boil or steam nearly everything and put spice on practically nothing. 

But the biggest “click” about Kory came the day The Good Teacher Inga told us that Norwegians don’t really tell anyone they love them.  Maybe once, before getting married, they might utter the word “elske” (love), but for the most part, it’s a very rarely used word.  Even parents talking to their children don’t say it.   

They have a saying, “Jeg er glad i deg,” which literally translates as “I am happy with you.”  That’s it.  That’s all you get.  That’s their toned-down version of “I love you.”  That’s what spouses say to one another and that’s what parents tell their children.  There is no love being spread around in Norway, that’s for sure, unless they are talking about Norwegian chocolate, then someone might be brave enough to utter the “elske” word. 

Years ago when I complained about his lack of verbal affection toward me, Kory just gave me the old line, “I told you I loved you when we got married.  If I change my mind, I’ll let you know.”  It’s been 22 years.  If he ever does tell me he loves me again, I sure hope he doesn’t use any pronouns.