Silver linings

So I finally get to Heathrow, make it through passport control and pick up my bag remarkably quickly. I find my coach stop back to Reading. I wait. An Italian man asks me about where to buy a ticket. I am very helpful and friendly to him. I wait some more. I realise the last two buses have not come. I call my man and the coach website says last coach went 15 minutes before I ever had a chance of getting to it. The Italian man never came back to tell me that I was waiting for a bus that would never come.

I check the London underground. None are working. There are buses into London, but no trains back out of London. Most people I know are out of London visiting family. There is no way for me to get home except by taxi.

I call my insurance people to ask if they'd pay for a cab. The people I need to speak to are not available until 8.30am tomorrow morning. They cannot help me. What is the point of Platinum cover if they are not there when I need them?

I feel discouraged. I speak to my man and he tells me he will drive three hours to come and get me. My heart lifts. I find a 24-hour cafe with leather sofas AND decaf tea AND soya milk. And, it would appear, wifi access, though somewhat pricey. I am not stranded after all, and I am sitting here with tea and chocolate cupcake. Shortly I will do some work I need to do before the end of this week.

Although none of what happened today is quite how I would have liked it to be, I am okay and I will be home by midnight or shortly after. Nothing disastrous has happened. I am just tired and slightly disgruntled. I am grateful that things are not as bad as they could be.

I am smiling. :-)

Gol to Oslo

Well, that was on the negative side of what I would call 'exciting'. I must be getting old, but last minute journeying is not my idea of fun. I am sure it is exacerbated by my Croatian genes, which require me to ideally be ready to get on a train, plane or boat at least four hours in advance of it leaving.

Anyway, I was praying to anyone who might be up there to get me to the airport on time and to preferably delay my flight. It turned out the flight was not only fully on time, but actually all ready to leave (and arrive) early except for one thing: I wasn't on it. I even had the embarrassment of having my name called out at the airport – telling me to hurry up. I have to confess that the last remnants of 'nice Nina' left me at that point and I wanted to shout at them and tell them that it wasn't my fault a Norwegian hurricane took down the Norwegian power lines and made my Norwegian train late, such that my short little English-Croatian legs had to run through the Norwegian airport with no Norwegian travelators to speed my journey, in order that I might get to their gate on time. I will also confess that once the gate was in sight and it was not yet the official latest time to board, I stopped to ask a kind bar lady to fill up my water bottle, which she did. There was no need for them to shout for me. I was right next to them.

Anyway, I finally boarded to face a full plane of intermittently bored and sympathetic faces. The relief I felt was phenomenal. The pilot happily told us that we were still ahead of time and so we sat and waited to take off…and then we sat and waited some more. It turned out that it wasn't just me slowing things down – the tow truck was stuck to the side of the plane and they couldn't get if off! As it was, we only left 10 minutes late, but I really didn't care. I was grateful to be on the plane at all.

I had a beautiful holiday in Norway with my wonderful brother and my generous and easy-going second sister. I felt very sad to be leaving them, knowing that they are now living further away than they once did and not knowing when I will be sharing a physical space with them again. I guess that’s the downside of loving people that are spread around the world. I feel their absence wherever I am.

But then I stop and think of the silver lining. I might feel the absence of loved ones wherever I am, but I also feel the presence of loved ones in many places across the world. I am, in that respect, a very lucky person. Despite being sad to leave my brother and second sister, I am happy to be going home to a country where I understand the implications of the varied yet somehow predictable weather.

Off I go again tomorrow on a hopefully more relaxing trip into London to see my 'first' sister. Just let me get home first and lay my head on my own pillow…

First ever knitted scarf

And this is my present to myself. My first ever attempt at knitting - a scarf with tassels.

Norwegian Xmas hat

Courtesy of my brother's girlfriend. Very happy me!

Happy Christmas 2011

Happiness is...

...sitting in front of a deliciously warm wood burning stove, with a cup of tea, a bowl of dark chocolate mixed up with dried fruit and nuts, good company chilling out around me, and attempting to knit my own scarf.

Very meditative and peaceful. Happy Ninki.

Snow hair

So this is apparently what happens to breathed-on hair when it's below -15*C. You'll see the same happened to my scarf too. I found it absolutely fascinating. My nostrils kept sticking together as the same also happened to my nasal hairs and the cartilage felt as if it was ossifying - this was rather uncomfortable and unpleasant, I have to confess, but I loved the whole head-hair thing!

Anyway, my hair felt crispy as if it had been deep fried, yet turned wet when I held it as presumably the ice started to melt. Such a peculiar thing. The things you discover in different climates is just wonderful. Who'd have thought that hair could be so amazingly entertaining!

The happiness ripple

This was my thought for the day, which made me smile when it arrived in my inbox courtesy of Inner Space.

When you're happy, your happiness ripples out to other people - at work, at home, even to the strangers around you.

Your happiness gives others hope. It makes a difference. So spread the warmth of happiness.

Random Norwegian (and other) things

In no particular order, we came across a table of Norwegian gingerbread houses, made by local adults and children.

Little gingerbread houses

Little hungry woodpecker - for my Mama and Dad

And then me and my lovely brother wandered up to the local transformer (part of the hydroelectric station). Took some pictures of us, ice crystals, barbed wire and random metal things (aka the transformer).

Bro and me

Transformer

Ice crystals

Flying pigs

Night snow

On one of the last days of my lovely man's presence here in Norway, we went for a walk in the evening's very long twilight period. Here are some piccies from our walk.

Pretty tractor in snow and outdoor Christmas tree in more snow, with even more snow falling! 




Once we were almost home (but still in the woods) we had hot tea at a snow-covered picnic table and some very chilled (almost frozen) yoghurt.

I became quite mesmerised by the beautiful design of the snowflakes on my gloves and tried to get a good picture, but didn't quite manage to get what I wanted. This picture just about shows you what I was entranced by (see single flake in middle of picture).

Snowflake(s) - see central white blob in picture

Return from hill top house

I almost forgot - this was the absolutely stunning view I had from the Dyane (with roasty toasty new heater) on our return drive from the hill top house referred to in 'Gentler activities'.

Gentler activities

On Sunday, having attempted snowboarding on Saturday while being premenstrual (and therefore having very poor balance and co-ordination), I decided I needed a gentle day, so I went with my brother and his girlfriend to visit one of their friends - a kind gentle New Zealander who lives in a house he built 30 years ago - while they went off to ski.

I sat with their friend a while, drinking loose leaf tea made with tea filters and in a pot, chomping on home made chocolate chip cookies, and we talked mainly about Norway, his house building and our work. He scans sheep to see if they are pregnant and he manages the green at the local golf course. Shortly he went off to do some chores and I remained in his hill top house with its enormous windows, wood burning stove and views of snow, pines and hills, slowly watching the sun go down, enjoying its light on my face. It is a beautiful place to live, peaceful, but somewhat isolated, I felt. I spent some time 'working from home' in this heavenly place, until the crew returned, all cold and ready for more tea and cookies.

Yesterday I did girlie shopping stuff and picked up some fabulous bargains from what is quite possibly the best charity shop I've ever visited. I know my sister would love it - her only challenge would be how to carry all the stuff back home again!

Today and tomorrow I am working from home again, but staying in my brother's house. There is no sunshine visible from his house this deep into winter, so instead I am watching the old moon rise over the hill line, as the sky slowly starts to brighten.

Frozen water based activities

So we finally managed to attempt a spot of cross-country skiing. Took us a while of trekking around, carting skis and sticks, to not find and then find a suitable nursery area for us skiing sproglings. It was beautiful hiking around the snow-covered wonderland. With the forests and the lighting and the sparkling diamond snow, it felt exactly how I imagine I would feel in Narnia. Absolutely divinely pretty!

View from front of van while driving

Front and back view at the same time!

Later in the evening, we headed out to do a spot of ice-skating. It was a completely different experience to in England. No queue at the boot hire place, no rush to do things quickly, enormous amounts of space on the vast outdoor rink. It was also pretty cheap compared with England - around £6 for as long as you wanted.

There were also no barriers to crash into, so I had to remember how to stop. The surface of the ice was smooth and quite frightening to start, but I quickly realised how much better my skates were - longer, sharper blades that cut smoothly into the ice. It was a beautiful sensation, almost like flying, and completely effortless.

While we were skating in an inner ring (much larger than UK outdoor rinks and marked only with mounds of snow) or around the outside of the inner ring, the speed skaters were racing around the outer edge of the large outer ring. Eventually Santa arrived and the littlest people disappeared to visit him, while the larger kids and adults vanished into the club house for prize giving from the skating races. This meant that Damae and I could rebelliously skate on the speed skaters' patch - an even smoother and cleaner feeling under the feet.

With toes numb and frozen, I eventually decided I'd had enough and I went indoors to the club house, where fresh waffles and jam were being served with hot drinks...and then they started to give the last waffles away for free, so I had another!

A satisfying and enjoyable day.

Trip to snow-covered peaks

Snow mounds

Driving up to the peaks, I saw mounds of snow, like snow dunes. Quite surreal and very pretty.

Snow dune making machine

Then we saw the snow dune making machine. This is what made those mounds. It all felt very abandoned up there, a bit like a snowy ghost village, without the houses...

(Later post update: according to my brother while this is indeed a machine, it is not a snow dune making machine).

Traffic lights

Again, a bit surreal waiting for ages on an empty road, at random traffic lights, with no other traffic...

Snow Mama!

Snow still here but melting. Not enough to go skiing or to do anything sporty, so we decided to make a snowman. During the extremely skilled creative process, she turned into a Snow Mama and very happy she is too.

Snow Mama

Mistletoe and wine

Well, no mistletoe or wine, but time for the Christmas tree!

Finally found a good place for it in the kitchen.

Gol in the snow

I'm not yet sure if Gol is really pretty just because it's covered in snow, but today it was warmer and a little slushy, but still pretty, but I am suspecting that it's just pretty. I like the fact that it's teeny tiny and everyone seems friendly and chatty.

We visited the sheepskin store and two tiny dogs were padding around, their little feet making clip-clip sounds on the wooden floorboards. The chap in there chatted for ages imparting loads of interesting information about the history of the sheepskin market. He told us that whole families would sleep naked in one bed a long time ago, warmed by one enormous sheepskin rug. He also showed us a wooden marital bed, that had been repainted in 1852 - can't remember the actual date of production. Inside was an old marital sheepskin quilt with traditional markings for protection (an animal) and fertility (sunshine and water). The materials were soft and luxurious, but very expensive - Karl Lagerfield had apparently a quilt from him some time ago (and said it okay to tell others about this). Took off his glasses, but not his gloves.

Anyway, I'll pop some pics below of our trek around Gol.

Over the river

River icicles

Oslo to Gol

Flying saucer lights at Oslo airport train station

Penultimate train station on our way to Gol from Oslo by train - snowy!

Paying for beauty

Penguins and dinosaurs with hats on, little red hearts, snowflakes, a plane with a slide at the end. Are all these things designed for children or for adults too? I love the little security cameras, white and sleek, like old fashioned oil streetlamps made from the carcass of a stormtrooper. Tiny little Christmas trees with red hearts for decoration, a large gold tree made of little gold paper chain people and red paper hearts. It's well-organised with lots of wood and clean glass. Different worlds on different levels, all visible as I travel down the escalator into the bowels. Yes, Oslo airport is a place I could come back to. Despite the £15 bill for the single unpleasant curry chicken sandwich and two cups of tea, Oslo airport is a place I will come back to (with home-made sandwiches wrapped in cling film).

Preferences not expectations

Another thought for the day from Inner Space that struck a note with me.

We all have expectations on how we we want things to happen. 

When things don't happen the way you want them to, instead of getting frustrated and disappointed, tell yourself: "I would have preferred 'A', but now that 'B' has happened, it's OK!"

Have preferences, not expectations.  "I'd prefer if people were thoughtful, but when they're rude, it's not going to ruin my day."  "I'd prefer sunshine but rain is OK!" 

Play this game in your head, and you'll feel more peaceful.

Love

I came across this quote that I scribbled down in a notebook years ago, that I am now flicking through. Reading it again made my heart skip a beat and my lungs skip a breath, then tears came to my eyes, because I know what it is to love like this. I know how beautiful love can be and I feel so very lucky to have had and to keep having this experience.

"When you come back inside my chest, no matter how far I've wandered off, I look around and see the way. At the end of my life, with just one breath left, if you come then, I'll sit up and sing."

(Birdsong, Rumi)

Failure is death

"To him, a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune a tragedy, a joy an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover a God and failure is death."
  
(Pearl S Buck describing a highly sensitive person - quoted in Therapy Today, Nov 2011, BACP magazine in the article 'Epilepsy and emotional wellbeing' by Tony Warren)

I read this and it caught at my heart. I couldn't work out why. I know people like this, for whom life affects them more than others, or more than me, certainly. Sometimes this person is me, or has been me. Especially when I've already been vulnerable, or rather, how I prefer to think of it, open. It's when we are open, when our hearts are laid bare to the world, that things will affect us more deeply.

What I am left with is that we're all very different. We don't really know how anything will impact another person and so we need to try to be aware, to have our eyes open. We need to look out for other people. We're all part of one thing, one human race, so why shouldn't we put a tiny bit more effort into seeing how we affect the other person, if only so that when we do accidentally deliver a blow, we can try to make sure that they fall gently and don't hurt themselves even more...or when they are lying on the ground, we don't kick them - we give them water.

It's not always possible to avoid hurting another, but it is possible to avoid delivering a fatal blow. It's not always possible to prevent someone failing, but it is possible to help them see that there is something beyond that failure. It's not always possible to prevent heartbreak, but you can prevent yourself adding to that damage.

I don't know where this leaves me. Still open I guess. Still pondering.

Six months (ish) on

I think of her most days. She was like a second mother. Sometimes I talk to her, as if she was still here, just in case she can hear me.

I wonder if I think of her more than when she was here. I wonder if this is to be the fate of all of us and I feel sad. Then I realise that in her going, I think more often about everyone I love.

Maybe this will be my fate, to be thought of more often once I’m gone, but there's not much I can do about how much others think about me. I can only change what I do. Those I love are in my thoughts more, because of her leaving, and I feel I show my love more than I used to. I try to have compassion when I am frustrated. I try to understand more when I am annoyed. I try to be gentler when others don't understand me. I try to be more congruent and honest in my actions and my words. I'm not a saint and I get things wrong all the time, but I'm trying harder to show those I love that I love them, in small ways. I know they may not see what I do because we all show love in different ways, but I can't change that either. What I can do, instead, is to try to see what others do to show me that they love me. To see their small efforts that previously might have gone unnoticed by me.

In tiny little ways, we can change our own worlds. We can listen to the lessons that life gives to us and by doing so make our lives more beautiful.