Customer Service

I don’t think there’s a phrase in Norwegian that means “customer service” because I don’t think they understand the concept.  It was such a shock for me when I lived there, having been pampered by the American way of life.

In the past, whenever I shopped in Norway, no employees ever even asked if I needed help.  Lately, however, at least that’s begun to change.  But even now, no cashier ever calls for back-up, even if the line is ridiculously long.

I usually just let go of the “Customer is King” mentality when in Norway, but a few times I was pushed over the edge and wished I could’ve demanded my natural born American rights of what is decent and fair in business.

I bought a modem when we lived there so we could have Internet access in our home.  I paid cash for it, took it home and waited, sadly, for a month before the installer came to hook it all up.

A few weeks after my modem and laptop were up and running, I received the exact same modem in the mail.  Soon thereafter I got my first bill and saw I was billed for it, along with the equivalent of twenty dollars for shipping. 

I took the extra modem back and told them someone made a mistake, and why would they ship me another modem after it was obvious I was already hooked up with one, anyway?  The guy just shrugged his shoulders and reimbursed my account the cost of the modem, but wouldn’t reimburse me the cost of shipping.  I told him it wasn’t my fault someone messed up and he said, “Yes, but they did have to pay to ship it to you, so they need to be reimbursed for that.”  I argued with him using my American logic that it wasn’t right I pay for something that wasn’t my fault, but there was no changing his mind.   

Another time I had a similar experience with an after-school program my son attended.  They made a billing mistake, so I pointed it out to them.  They agreed they had made a mistake and they sent me a new bill, but by the time I got it, it was overdue, so it came with a ten-dollar late fee.  They wouldn’t budge on that one either, no matter how much I pointed out how unfair it was that I had to pay a late fee because I was waiting for a corrected bill from them. “It’s a computer,” the woman argued, “ I can’t tell the computer what’s fair, so you just have to pay it.” 

Norwegian logic always wins, as I’ve come to know, being married to one for more than two decades now.

Misunderstandings

A little ditty often quoted when heading out the door for a walk in Norway is “Ut på tur, aldri sur.” It rhymes in Norwegian but translates as “Out on a trip, never sour,” meaning one is always in a good mood when they are going for a walk.  Rain or shine, Norwegians love to go for walks and their culture caters to it with very wide sidewalks weaving in and out of every community.

The phrase “ut på tur” is used when describing a casual walk around the block or a strenuous hike up into the mountains.

One very rainy morning in Norway, I got a text message from my friend, Kristin, asking if I was free to go “på tur.”  I wasn’t sure if she meant a nice walk in the rain around the neighborhood, or if she really wanted to go climb the nearest mountain in the pouring rain, but I was up for whatever adventure she was offering, so I responded accordingly.

Everyone has full raingear in Norway – rain pants, boots and jacket with a hood.  The weather is never a deal breaker, so I purchased all the necessary clothing soon after we moved there.  I was ready for this moment.

Kristin walks faster than I do so I knew I’d be getting a work out trying to keep up with her, even if the walk was just around the block.  I put on some shorts and a short sleeved shirt under my rain gear, just so I wouldn’t overheat. 

When I arrived at Kristin’s house, I could clearly see she wasn’t dressed to go for a hike in the rain, and neither were the other women there.  In fact, Kristin’s coffee table was set, candles were lit, and fancy foods were on display.  I had to ask for clarification, as I was sure the text she sent me meant we were going for a walk.  It was then that I learned Norwegians use the exact same phrase to also invite someone over to their house for a visit. 

And there I sat around the coffee table, with the other guests dressed in their finest attire, and me in my wrinkled, baggy Hawaiian t-shirt and shorts, exposing my bare unshaven legs.  I couldn’t have been more embarrassed.  I’m no slave to fashion and when in America, could care less what I look like, but in Norway, I try to cater a little more to their fairly formal cultural norms and expectations.

Fortunately, everyone was very forgiving of my misunderstanding the invitation, and for the way I looked.  We all had a good laugh so I can still say that when one is “ut på tur, aldri sur.”

My Engagement

The day I met my future mother-in-law, I complimented her on an unusual necklace she was wearing.  She told me its story.  The two gold circles were her and her husband’s wedding rings.  After he died, she placed them one inside the other and put a cross in the center to signify their Christ-centered life.  She attached it to a chain and never took it off.

She went on to tell me that in Norway, when couples get engaged, they both put rings on their fingers and don’t exchange them during the wedding ceremony. Everyone in Norway uses plain gold bands and they wear them on their right hand.  The rings also get inscribed on the inside with the date of their engagement, and the name of the person they are engaged to, with “din” before it.  “Din” is the Norwegian word for “yours.”

I instantly fell in love with that tradition.  It always bothered me that in America a woman gets “marked” before she’s married, wearing an engagement ring, but there’s nothing to tell the world the man is also taken.  I decided then and there I was going to get engaged in Norway. I knew Kory would never pop the question, so for his birthday, I bought him tickets to Norway to “visit his family.”  I planned to propose to him on New Year’s Eve, exactly 51 years after his mother took a highly unorthodox move by asking his father to marry her.  Kory had no idea what I was up to.

Once we were in Norway, I secretly enlisted the help of a cousin to buy the rings.  Initially, I’d planned to fly to the same town where Kory’s parents were engaged, but the tickets were too expensive so I settled on the idea of proposing in his childhood hometown as we walked the streets of his old neighborhood.  Little did I know our engagement would become something similar to the movie “My Big Fat Greek Wedding.”  The minute the cousins heard I was going to propose, they took complete control of the entire event, insisting they all be there to witness it.

In the end, and against my will, I ended up arriving at the house in a fire truck, with lights flashing and sirens blaring.  Even though I didn’t know the local customs, I was sure this was highly unusual. Kory was most perplexed, especially when dozens of relatives descended on the scene with cameras in hand.  Someone had alerted the media, so a reporter and photographer were also there.  It couldn’t have been more different than what I had planned, but having the whole family gathered did put a little extra pressure on him to finally say, “Yes.” 

Formal Greetings

Twenty-one years ago, when Kory and I were heading to Norway for the first time together, I knew only a few words of Norwegian.  I asked him to teach me the proper greeting, when being introduced to someone.  I wanted to make a good impression.  Even though we were only dating, I knew the relationship would be forever.

I wanted to know the Norwegian equivalent of, “So nice to meet you.”  He told me when I greet someone I must make direct eye contact, shake their hand and say, “Jeg er med barn.”  I practiced that over and over so I would get it just right. 

On the flight over, Kory took out a family tree to show me all the relatives we’d be meeting on the trip.  It was written in Norwegian, and I saw the word “barn.”   I instantly got suspicious of this greeting he had taught me, since I could see the word was used in reference to the children of each person listed.  I questioned him on this phrase he’d taught me and he just smirked.  I knew instantly he was up to something, so I pestered him enough until he finally confessed that he was going to have me tell everyone, “I am with child.”  This was not at all funny to me and not just because I would have been proclaiming a miraculous conception.  Kory thought it was hilarious.  Kory’s aunts and uncles were very religious and I didn’t think they would see the humor in this statement either.  I was so thankful his little scheme did not play out.

After we’d been in Norway a few days, I confided in a cousin about Kory’s mischievous plan.  She thought it was hysterical and began to tell others.

Later that week, we were invited to tag along to a New Year’s Eve party.  Norwegians are extremely formal when they meet one another for the first time.  In fact, they are formal about a lot of things. Thankfully by then, I’d learned the proper greeting, which is, “Så hygelig å treffe deg.”

The party had been going on for hours before we arrived.  Once everyone saw us walk through the door, the Norwegians all quickly lined up across the room in a receiving line, somewhat like one would expect if they were waiting for royalty to arrive.  It was obvious the story of Kory’s mischievous practical joke on me had made its rounds.  Each person extended their hand to shake mine and greeted me with, “Jeg er med barn.”  

Others may think Norwegians are a bit prim and proper, but apparently some of them have a real warped sense of humor.

Strangers

Going for a walk in the neighborhood is a national pastime in Norway.  The term they use for this is “lufte seg” which literally translates as “airing myself.”  It’s funny when they say they are taking the dog out for a walk because the words translate as “airing the dog” as if it’s been stinking up the house.  I can’t help but laugh every time I hear someone say it. 

We were out walking with relatives one day and the first person we passed, my husband and I both greeted them with a “God dag”, which is a standard Norwegian greeting meaning “good day” but when pronounced sounds exactly like “good dog,” so that also cracks me up, since it’s something I often say to dogs.

After we’d passed them, Kory’s cousin asked us if we knew the people we had greeted.  We didn’t.  “Then why did you greet them?”  he asked.  We told him it’s because it’s just what we do – we greet people we pass on trails or in the street.  “We don’t do that in Norway,” he said.  “We only greet people we know.”  In fact, they don’t even make eye contact with people they don’t know.  The conversation went on from there about how Norwegians pretty much just keep to themselves and aren’t that welcoming to strangers. 

The foreign women in my Norwegian class often complained about how cold and uncaring Norwegians seemed to them and how hard it was to make friends with the locals.  I’ve even met Norwegians that have moved to America for that very reason – they hated how “closed” Norwegians are with their emotions.  Ironically though, that whole dynamic changes if there’s any common ancestry.

I have found the friendliest people in Norway when I have knocked on a complete stranger’s door, holding up a copy of the family tree, looking for a farm where one of my ancestors lived hundreds of years ago.  If there’s even a hint that I might be related to someone, they drop what they are doing, the door swings open wide, the coffee starts brewing in the pot, and I’m invited in for a good long chat.  Family is everything in Norway.

Based on my experience with doing family research on my husband’s side, if I go back far enough, he’s related to hundreds of people we know in Norway and thousands we don’t.  I guess that justifies us greeting strangers we meet when we’re out “airing ourselves.” 

I’m sure if every Norwegian had a copy of their pedigree, they’d realize they are all related, and perhaps then, they’d start saying, “good dog” to each other.

Winter Solstice

Norway, being as far north as they are on the planet, is one of the few countries in the world that still pay close attention to the position of the sun throughout the year.  In fact, they price houses there based upon how much sun they get in the wintertime, like Americans would price houses based on their view.  In Norway, almost every house has a view. 

In the summer, way up north, the sun never sets, but in winter, it only briefly rises. Part of the excitement in Norway during the Advent season – the days leading up to Christmas – is anticipating December 21^st – when the sun turns and the days start growing longer again. It is a cause for much celebration.

Actually, it’s only been in the last few hundred years that the Winter Solstice was more accurately placed on the 21^st.  Decades before Jesus was even born, Julius Caesar decreed the Winter Solstice should be December 25^th and it has been celebrated on that date up until the 16^th century.  So it’s no coincidence that Christmas falls on December 25^th as well.  Newly converted Christians wanted to keep celebrating on that date, but they had to give up their pagan ways, so they just designated the 25^th as the day to celebrate the birth of their Savior instead.  Surprisingly though, many countries throughout the world celebrate Christmas on a different date altogether.

Norwegians burn massive amounts of candles the whole month of December.  They say it’s to bring more light into their homes on the darkest month of the year, but I’m sure some of it harkens from their pre-Christian days of lighting bonfires and sacrificing animals and humans to the gods in hopes they’d end winter soon. 

There are no longer bonfires in Norway in December, but at the end of June, the night before the Summer Solstice, bonfires are a national obsession.  Neighborhoods all over Norway build huge bonfires and gather together with friends and family for Bar-B-Ques, games for the kids, and a night of socializing.  They carry on some of their pagan traditions with many locations still placing a dummy witch on top of the fire, which is then burned in effigy to ward off evil spirits that are thought to be lurking when the sun turns south. 

Since Norway is a Christian nation, this pagan ritual is problematic, but they solved the problem by wrapping Christianity into it.  The Bible says that Jesus’ cousin, John the Baptist, was born six months before Jesus, so conveniently now, the Summer Solstice is celebrated as John’s birthday, and the night before is called Santhansaften (Saint John’s Eve).  I’m sure, based on how they celebrate it, he would not be pleased.