Like mother, like daughter

 Anna

 Dina

Red Cross

 Darina

 Temmy

and Xiomara

I also have a photo of Dixie's hand. We went to Flyt, I ate a hamburger, chips, and about twentythree meatballs, and didn't feel hungry for another twentyfour hours. We talked about sleeptalking and sleepwalking and whether we shouldn't all just film ourselves in our sleep, but also travel and language (as always) and presents and food and the United States.

After the meal, Dixie and I went out at midnight (on a Saturday, remember) handing out safety alarms to all the drunk girls we could see. The Red Cross were handing them out before Christmas, because of a series of rapes that were happening in Oslo. During Christmas there were one or two (they're not sure how to classify one of them) rapes in Tromsø, which has made my parents more fearful of my safety than ever before. I have one of these alarms in my handbag, it's just one of the ones that make a high-pitched noise when you pull out a pin, but at least I have that if I'm walking on my own in the dark. 

There's been a bit of controversy about these (and remember, they're only recently becoming normal in Norway) - whether they make you feel too safe, so you walk more on your own than you would otherwise, whether they take away the focus that should be on sexual harassment in people's homes/families, and a lot more. I think they're very important, though. Knowing that I can use my alarm if anything were to happen means that I won't let the fear consume me - which would be silly, seeing that assault, or rape, is not very likely to happen in Tromsø, even if it has happened.

Let's leave that discussion for another day. Dixie and I went out with about 150 safety alarms, strolled up the high street and back again, and came back with four alarms that Dixie kept for her friends. And as always, I'm of the opinion that as long as no one gets hurt, if we only help one person by doing this, it's worth it.

This started as a cheery post, and ended on a more serious note. I'm sorry, lovely Red Cross Youth people, I did have a splendid Christmas Party meal with you lot.

Guess where?

Bookshelves covering an entire wall? Yes, please.

I've just come back from my sister's, been at the Red Cross Youth Christmas Party (yes), and am now sitting in my parents' living room pretending to apply to jobs. No, that's not true, I've applied to two. Should have done more. Yet there are books to read! Interwebz to gawk at! And most importantly, even more photos of my niece to edit.

Above are my parents' bookshelves, including the "photography shelf" that my dad and I share. It's got photo books and all our cameras on it. Photography and books and films and a photo of Dina, this is all I need.

I also have a cat. Happy days.

Rules or Resolutions or... Guidelines, if you prefer

I've never understood New Year's Resolutions. It seems to me to be very similar to the Sunday chant of "I will never drink again" - something you desperately feel you will keep in the moment because you know it would be better for you, but you either can't or won't keep it up.

Instead, I've always (and by always, I mean the past few years, obviously) made tiny resolutions throughout the year. With the fear of sounding smug, it works a lot better. And to be completely honest, they're usually just guidelines. If I fail at one of my resolutions, I can go "meh" and try again next week. I tried making a list of what resolutions, rules and guidelines I'm currently following to some degree or other.

1. Don't buy new clothes, only second hand and vintage (since September 2008)
2. Don't buy clothes at all if you don't have a steady income
3. Give to charities monthly, and avoid buying one luxury for that amount of money
4. Yet indulge yourself now and then (hello pretty, new Moleskine diary)
5. Make an effort with your hair (silly short hair needs styling)
6. Wear nice clothes, even when you are home, alone, and no one will see them
7. Smile at people you think you might know, on the bus, on the street, in a shop, because if you do know them, that's good, if you don't, they get a smile from a stranger
8. Save money for travel, monthly
9. Travel
10. Have dinner with at least one other person every week to avoid becoming a lonely mad-woman
11. Stop drinking at midnight
12. Only buy clothes that will make people go "wow" or "ooh" or "can I stroke your arm, it looks so soft"
13. Never wear shabby clothes outside the house
14. Reply to all emails from Couchsurfers, even the weird ones
15. Learn, no really, learn conversational Spanish

I could probably think of fifteen more. But these'll do written down. If I just keep the rest in my head, it's more acceptable if I fail at them. A lot of the ones above are ones I am constantly working on, hoping that someday it feels completely natural.

Sun-day

 Just past midday, first sunset

 Tora enjoys being photographed almost as much as my mother

 Best chocolate ever: Toffifee.

 Foreigners + fires = ...

Breath-taking sunshine. At least when you're not used to it.

At Saturday, on the Sun-day, I woke poor Tora up early after a late night. We packed some sun-buns (doughnuts, really) and chocolate and cameras in our bags and walked to a beach near the southern point of the island to meet up with a bunch of insane Couchsurfers who'd been there since 11 am. They'd made a fire and had a proper barbeque in the freezing cold. Tora and I came, saw the sun, had some chocolate and sun-buns, talked to the others, then left as soon as we could. It was nice, though. Sun. Still happy about it.

Sol, sol, sol

Monday, 23rd January, ca. 12:15 (second sunset)

I got slightly teary-eyed (slightly, mind) looking through my sun photos from yesterday, and my sunset photos from Saturday. Ridiculous? Maybe. Saturday was the Sun-day (confusing in English, I know) in Tromsø. The day when the sun returns after two months of absence is fantastic. It's impossible to explain the feeling of joy, happiness, exaltation everyone living north of the Arctic Circle experience in January (or February in Svalbard, poor souls) when the sun comes back. My German friend was sat on the bus Saturday noon, and was astonished by how everyone started shouting and pointing and smiling at the short glimpse of sun.

I've seen the sun during the polar night, since I've been to Germany and Oslo during the period, but still, nothing beats seeing it in Telegrafbukta with Tora on Saturday. It's so orange and bright and dazzling.

Another grand thing about Tromsø is that we get two sunrises and two sunsets at the end of January. The sun can be seen on the left side of the mountain above, then it disappears behind the mountain, just to reappear a few minutes later on the other side of the mountain.

Talked to an American on Sunday, who was saying Tromsø was dark. "But.... The sun is back! It's light! So, so bright!" was my stunned response. It's all relative.

Apologies for my absence

I've had a Tora-face and a film festival to deal with all at once.

Tired & No Glasses

... and blue nail polish.

Just finished the first official day of the film festival, after watching six films, the last one in 3D, I'm pretty knackered. I decided that wearing contact lenses for the first time since last April would be better than trying to balance the flat, cheap 3D glasses on top of my own glasses.

I look into mirrors and my face looks empty.

Prejudice? Go on, then.

Play, by Ruben Östlund

One of the reasons I love TIFF: The films always make you think. They usually show one or two more commercial films (although, I think the most mainstream film this year is the new Wuthering Heights, and that won't even be showing in regular cinemas in Norway. At all.), but mainly, the programme is a wonderful mix of international films (i.e. not from the US) that demand something more than a popcorn-eating, dumb audience.

I won't try to comment on every film I'll see - I've already got six tickets just for tomorrow. Play needs a statement of some kind though. Or maybe I just need to make a statement about it.

It is a film about something that did actually happen.

" Play was inspired by actual events that occurred in Göteborg, Sweden from 2006 through 2008. A group of black boys, ages 12 to 14, robbed other children on about 70 different occasions. Ruben Östlund's producer, Erik Hemmendorff, showed him a news article about it, and the idea for the film was born. "
xoxo Sweden

A group of black kids, as they say, go up to younger white kids, ask them to see their phone, and starts a whole scam about how a phone exactly like that, with those scratches, was stolen from their brother the previous weekend. The whole film is about this one incident, where the robbers take their victims further and further away from town, intimidate them, joke with them, make them do whatever comes into their mind at the moment... As the title says, it's just play. They're obviously bored and in need of entertainment. They know everything about racial prejudice and political correctness, and use this to frighten the younger boys.

It's a very well made film. The camera stays still while the characters move in and out of the frame, making you guess what's going on, but you're never quite right.

A lot of people have called Ruben Östlund racist after watching this film. But as one character explains (spoonfeeds) us at the end of the film: Who cares what race the perpetrators are? We care about the act of stealing and conning people, not the race. If you can't say that someone has done something wrong, in fear of being non-PC, what can you do?

I'm noticing my incapability of discussing this without making a long essay. Other people have written better, longer articles about this film and the issues around it: Mark Adams and Leslie Felperin.

What I wanted to say was: If you get a chance, watch this. I know it'll be in Norwegian cinemas in a few weeks. Probably not in England, though...

Baby, baby, baby

Please zoom in on this and look at Dina's face. Priceless.

I usually only post adorable photos of my niece. At the moment though, as I'm editing photos from early 2010, I keep finding pictures like this one, where she's making faces at the adults who try to take adorable baby shots with her.

Books! Books!

 En,

 to,

 tre!

The only thing I bought in Oslo.

The first book was a Christmas present from my grandmother, probably helped a little by my mother. I was disappointed when I saw she'd given me a P.D. James crime novel, until I read the title and the blurb inside. It's a Pride & Prejudice sequel, which happens to be a murder mystery. How awesome is that? My only problem with P.D. James is that she doesn't believe in the Oxford comma, and I do. It is incredibly entertaining, anyway.

The second book is actually the TIFF catalogue 2012, with extensive blurbs about all the films they're showing. I'm a volunteer this year (surprise!) as I was in 2008. I've already done my volunteer work, and all next week I shall spend in the cinema, watching strange European indie films. Already started on Wednesday with a volunteer screening of A Declaration of War, fits exactly with what I expect from my festival films.

The third book is a perfect little Moleskine diary. Say what you want about the hipsterification of Moleskine books - the same you'd say about Macbooks - I like them because they are actually really well made, and fit my needs perfectly. This is a diary with the week on the left page, and lots of space for notes on the right page. I always scribble all over my diaries, because I use them as notebooks when I don't have anything else with me, so this is just ideal.

I've had a Moleskine notebook before, and I have to say, they do really have something in common with Macbooks. They are slightly too expensive for what they are. They've suddenly become incredibly cool, and lots of people seem to be buying them just because it's the thing to do. I'm attracted to both things because of their design, but also because they keep longer than the alternatives. And there's a certain strange love you feel for both when you own them - I've read long articles discussing why Mac users love their machines so much, compared to PC users, who just like their machines and think they're quite all right. No one has found an answer as far as I know. It's the thing that makes you stroke your laptop or your notebook when you put it away...

Or maybe I'm just odd.

Heeei Oslo

 Mormor, trying out Anna and Erling's iPad

 Hello, antique/fallen off a lorry-stuff/second-hand shop in Markveien

 And hello Maja! In a slightly shabby curry place with very good food.

 Bam! Sunshine! So confusing for a Northerner.

 You can't appreciate the immense beauty of sunlight on a tree trunk
before you've lived without it for a month or two.

Hei Silje and Line, getting ready for a night out.
Line is probably my oldest friend, we've known each other since we were ten.

Oslo was a good mix of being with my family, seeing old friends, seeing Maja, who is the only person from my England studies I've seen after leaving Falmouth, going out, staying in, drinking, eating, being slightly bored and very entertained.

Happy birthday, Freya

 June 2010, Falmouth, Cornwall

 August 2010, above Tromsø

May 2010 (?), Falmouth, Cornwall

Gratulerer med dagen! Happy birthday! Hurra for Freya, my lovely English past housemate and friend. I miss you and your Cocoa Pops breakfasts, your dance moves in the kitchen, your constant Eddie Izzard-quotes, your obsession with language and spelling mistakes, your Cornish pride and jokes, your fantastic hugs and cuddles, your oddness, quietness, loudness, and everything else that makes up your beautiful being.

Why travel?

New York, november 2009

1. To see family and friends, and also: experience other things, like Oslo's fantastic vintage shops with woolly cardigans (a most amazing invention) of every colour, people who dress both practical and pretty at once, and enjoy an ice cube machine refrigerator, which is also full of wine and tons of food, and maybe, maybe, there was a lynx walking outside one night.
2. To come home to family and friends, and experience the old things anew: Being able to go plane-bus-shop-meetfriend-home-walktotown-gym in less than two hours, because Tromsø is so perfectly tiny, a shower with water that keeps warm even when the washing machine is on, a laptop that is noone else's, and being able to wear ridiculous clothes because they are warm without anyone glancing at you twice.

In January, I'm not buying

These flowers for morfar,

but giving the sum of 600 kr to the Norwegian Cancer Society, by my grandmother's wish.

Right, I'm off!

Fantastic claw-like icicles that have formed outside my door.
Just to prove that I live somewhere cold.

Tonight I'm going to Nesodden with my family, tomorrow is the memorial service, Thursday through Monday is meeting with Maja, meeting with Line and Mette and other childhood friends, celebrating my cousin's 15th birthday, strolling through Grünerløkka's hipster vintage shops, and spending even more time with my family - happy days and sad times all mingled together.

Unemployed: Day One

That's right, my dears.

I quit my job as a post-lady. Since we got rainy weather every day in October, and since we got snow every other day in November, it just wasn't any fun any more. It wasn't a dream job in the first place, but in summer it was all right, and quite nice on the occasional overcast, 15-degree Friday (no advertisements on Fridays). As autumn/winter came on though, I started dreading going to work. I've had that once before, and I hope I won't have it again.

My plan is to have January off, and then get a job come February, or March at the very latest.

I know. I'm very lucky to live in a country where I can just quit my job without having another one lined up already. Yet - isn't that the very reason I should? When your mother said "think of the children in Africa, starving to death" she didn't mean you should starve to death because others do. She meant you should eat as much as possible, because other people can't. And I'm well aware that in most other countries, at the moment, especially in Europe, young people can't get work. That doesn't mean (as I have heard people argue) that I should stick to a job I'm unhappy with.

So, let's agree, I'm very lucky to be able to do this. I've still been saving even more than usual this autumn, never buying anything expensive, because I knew I would want to do this. At the same time, I know people who earn less than me who have bought holidays, cameras, musical instruments, etc. - for as much, or more, as my monthly house rent.

My plans for January:

• Go to Nesodden/Oslo for my grandfather's memorial service, and stay on for almost a week to see my friends and spend some more time with my family there (3.-9.)
• Apply to the Red Cross Youth Delegate Exchange Program I want to go on
• Apply to tons of jobs
• Be a volunteer (and get a festival pass to watch 6 - six- films daily) at the Tromsø International Film Festival (17.-22.)
• Meet up with all the Couchsurfers who come to Tromsø in January to look for Northern Lights
• Plan some photography projects
• Do some photography other than "look at my food and my niece"
• Go to Bardu and take more photos of my niece (and spend some time with her as well)
• Arrange the Red Cross Youth Christmas Party (yes, I know) (it's on January 28th)
• Take my brother out to BlåRock and get him a pint on his 18th (the 30th)
• Do stuff I never get around to doing because I always blame work and being busy

Sooo, yes. I have enough to do, I think.

I'm sorry if this post comes off as a little tetchy. It's just that I've discussed this issue with a lot of (international) people before, and I want to prove that I've thought about this, I've got plans, and I've been very good with saving up money the past six months.

Wish me luck!

Three last photos of 2011

I only took three photos on NYE. These three. Christine, Karoline and I had dinner with Christine's parents and their friends (all the garlic bread in the world, not kidding, still full 24 hours later), and then I scooted off to Vijitha's party to see the mountain fireworks and discuss music until five o'clock this morning. Yawn.