Aaarrrgh!

Nothing to do with Norwegian!
I just liked the photo...

When I decided I would need to learn Norwegian in order for me to move to Norway, I looked on the internet and found one that seemed not to be too dear, yet would still teach me something. I bought it, a few days later it arrived and ever since then I have been studying. During work mind, never in my free time! (That's the beauty of being a busdriver: I have plenty of time left while waiting for children who swim or do pe). The cd's were discarded quite early on. They were really annoying me no end. They would ask a question and by the time I had finished translating, they would have already given the answer. Pressing the pause button didn't help: the whole machine would then go haywire and I would have to start all over again.

I bought myself some school supplies, so I would be able to write down what I needed to write down: the rules of Norwegian grammar, words and words and words and of course the little assignments. Occasionally I would have to translate a sentence in Norwegian and think: I can't do that and I would invariably do it and even get it correct!

Now, the thing with this course is, it's an English Norwegian course. So, everything is explained in English. My English is reasonably okay, but when people start talking of infinitives, bare infinitives, articles, nouns and the lot, that gets quite confusing. Because I will need to translate it into Dutch before I can translate it any further. I think my grammar booklet is full of made-up Dutch names for things. At least I understand what I am going on about. Most of the time...

Sometimes though I get stuck. Like when I learnt about big bigger biggest. Which turned out not to be about that at all, but was all about adjectives and their endings regarding the nouns they were with. Or like when I had to learn about auxiliary verbs and couldn't for the life of me grasp what they were (I have since had a brainwave and know they are hulpwerkwoorden).

Fortunately I have friends. And one in particular who can help me out when I am in a tight spot. She should be anyway, since she is a Dutch teacher! If ever I really get stuck, I will get onto her, babble something on her voicemail and she will try to make sense of my babble and send me an answer. Lovely!

Now I just need to learn how to pronounce it all...

Wuppie

He is getting on a bit. In human years he is nearing one hundred, in cat years he is nearing 14. He sits on my lap a lot and even if I move about, he will stay put. He has never been the most clever of cats, unless it comes to food and in that case he is a genius.

On Saturday, as I was watching television, he didn't sit on my lap, but slept on the chest near the central heating. I guess he was dreaming, because as I was glancing over, I saw him slide off the chest in quite an undignified manner. I think it shocked him too and it probably hurt him as well, as he was limping!

The limp didn't last long though. As soon as I had picked him up to examine the leg, he settled in my arms and then stayed on my lap for a further 3 hours.

You have to love him!

Weekend

When I wrote about Sherlock a week or so ago, I got a reaction from Carolina, who told me there might be another series worth watching on the BBC: Mrs Brown's Boys. A series concerning an Irish mammy and her children. According to her it was a really good series and since we tend to like similar sort of shows... But then I saw what it was about and thought: no, this is not my type of show. Of course, only reading the blurb doesn't necessarily mean anything and in order to be faithful, I decided to have a little look.

Well, there was a penguin and a very pregnant woman. And there was Mrs Brown herself. She swore. A lot! And it was hilarious! It took all my effort not to pee my pants. Literally!! I wrote back to Carolina saying how much I had loved the show. On Monday she gave me a heads-up about the episode that evening and we got to emailing back and forth about how we would love to see the first series. So I ordered it on dvd. Together with Sherlock and Doctor Who. It arrived on Friday and this weekend I watched Mrs Brown's Boys and Sherlock. I added some tea and cookies and I had a near perfect weekend! 

'New'

When I first heard this ‘new’ category, I thought, what on earth could I do that would reflect the word new? And then I spent a night at my cousin’s and her youngest daughter had just gotten a new little hamster. Bingo!

On Sunday morning daughter wanted to hold Rose (the hamster’s name), but couldn’t get her out of the cage, so I volunteered to help. I gave her to daughter, but once Rose started moving around, she didn’t like that too much and handed her back to me. So, she moved around on me, I stuck her in my cardigan’s pocket, she tried getting up my sleeve and daughter kept moving about to keep track of Rose. It was adorable, even if she did bite me (Rose that is, not daughter).

Just one thing to remember: when you’ve had any chocolate sprinkles for breakfast (like I did) and you find one after you handle a hamster, don’t think it’s a chocolate sprinkle. I thought it was a chocolate sprinkle, stuck it in my mouth and realised it was hamster poo. Good thing it was tiny…

This is my third entry for Photo Theme for Thursday. Why not join?

Scandinavia Fair

I have been to several emigration fairs over the last few years and the answers I got to any of my questions regarding finding jobs in Canada and/or trying to move out there, were always met with: Yes, it is possible, but will be very difficult. So, when I did move my sight from Canada to Norway it was very much because the chances were a great deal higher in Norway than they ever were in Canada. And when I went to the Scandinavia Fair on Saturday, I got confirmation after confirmation.

I had rented a car specially, so I could go when I wanted instead of having to depend on public transport and had arrived just after half past nine. The doors had just about opened when I went in and started my hunt for information. Now, most of the stands were by communities in the country side who are dealing with severe lack of people and are trying to find people to come live in their communities. Then there was the European Job Center (Eures) with its Norwegian, Swedish and Danish counterparts, the Social Security Office of the Netherlands, the Tax Office of the Netherlands, some moving companies, some foody type thingiemebobs and some translation companies.

All in all, there were plenty of stands for me to browse and talk to people. I had taken a few cv's with me, in English, so if they wanted one, I could give them one. I filled out forms, talked to people, got brochures and leaflets, filled out some more forms and was very happy about all the positive sounds I got. There was actually one that said (and I quote): "You are a busdriver and a woman? Twice as good!" The only negative sound I kept on hearing was the fact that I would need to speak Norwegian. Well, you good people of Norway: I am working hard on it, don't you worry!

I left just before three in the afternoon, with a bag full of brochures, a head full of information and a happy heart. To be continued...

'Toys'

When I was about eleven or twelve, all the girls in my class had 'best friends', apart from me and one other girl. So, the other girls set us up on a 'best friend date'. I was supposed to go over to H's house and there we would play. That way we too would become best friends and all the girls in the class were properly set up.

Off I went to H's house to play. But horror of horrors, she wanted me to play with dolls! Barbie dolls! How was I supposed to know how to play with dolls? I never did at home. I played with my brother's lego or his racing set. I read books and I knitted. But most of all I played outside with other neighbourhood children. We roamed the neighbourhood, we played Jail ball, Hide and Seek, Potato in the Pan, Softball, we climbed trees, raced shopping carts, fell in ditches, off bike racks or cycled somewhere. I certainly never played with dolls!

There was however one very important member in our household. It wasn't a doll but a teddy bear. And without this teddy bear I couldn't sleep. My father has turned the car around on one occasion to go get it. We bought a replacement bear that itched. But usually I just made sure I had it with me. And I still have it. It's very battered and bruised and definitely needs to see a doctor, but he's still here. Sitting on my bedside table in his little pink and orange bikini I knitted him.

By the way, me and H never hit it off...

This is my second entry for Photo Theme Thursday. Why not join?

Open wide!

My semi-annual appointment with the dentist was yesterday. It's always great fun. I sit in the waiting room trying to read at least one comic (usually the Donald Duck magazine), before I am called in to take my seat in one of those uncomfortable reclining chairs. Then the dental assistant starts cleaning my teeth, which yesterday lasted all of two minutes, including me spitting half way through. Then the dentist himself comes over, gives me a sort of limp handshake (it's not quite limp, but it's not firm either, it's a bit wishy-washy), asks whether there were any problems, pokes about in my mouth a bit and sends me on my merry way.

Of course last year followed somewhat of a different course when he found two cavities (for the first time ever I hasten to add), so I even though I wasn't nervous as such, I wasn't 100% certain about the outcome.

So, I read Quest magazine (couldn't be bothered to get up to find the Donald Duck), got called in, got my teeth cleaned and then poked and was sent on my merry way. In the mean time I answered their questions about Norway, I told the dentist I don't grind my teeth at night, but I do chew on breadcrumbs for hours with my front teeth and made an appointment for July. All in the space of 15 minutes.

Dentist schmentist...

Sleuth

If anybody out there thinks the only people capable of making good television are the Americans, think again! Because the British know a thing or two about good tv as well. As you may know I love Doctor Who since it's rebirth earlier this century and have watched most episodes at least four times now. But this post is not about Doctor Who, it is about Sherlock as in Sherlock Holmes!

This year saw three more episodes (ninety minutes each) of that most famous of sleuths Sherlock. I saw the three episodes last year and when I found out there were new ones on the way, I could hardly wait. Sherlock is played by Benedict Cumberbatch and his sidekick Dr Watson is played by Martin Freeman (soon to be a Hobbit). It's slick, it's tense, it's funny and at times it's downright scary. It's based on the books by Arthur Conan Doyle, but this series is contemporary and modern. The hat of old came back this season as a sort of in-joke, which was really funny and the pipe has been replaced with nicotine patches and an urgent craving for a cigarette.

I know Martin Freeman especially is going to be busy in the near future (what with being the Hobbit and all), but I do hope they will make another series of three next year. I for one can't wait!

Shopping

The still good home-made socks by my friend Pepperfly

When do you throw clothes out? When they are out of season? Or when you can hardly see the clothes for the amount of holes in them? I tend to veer more towards the second option than the first. But then again, I hardly buy the most fashionable clothes to begin with, so out of season is usually even before I've bought the stuff. Anyway...

My socks showed some severe signs of being very old. Elastic gone, holes in heels and toes and they all tended to be of a somewhat greyish disposition. So, new socks were in order. Then I needed a pair of new jeans, because the ones I do own make me look as if I am waiting for the high water to come in any second. And to top it all off, new bras would also be good, since I could balance a cup of tea on the underwires in the ones I own. Off to the shops I went.

The first shop I went in however did have nothing to do with socks, bras or jeans. Because I was also out to buy myself a new mobile phone. I have a great one, but contrary to what that really nice guy in Airdrie (Canada) told me, I can't use it in Europe. So, a new one. And a simple one at that. I don't want one with a gazillion gadgets and thingymebobs and mindbogglers. I want a phone with which I can phone and text. End of story. So, I got myself two. At a tenner each not a bad deal I thought!

Then it was off to get some bras. Which is difficult for any woman I gather, but when you don't have the smallest size, don't want any funny colours, need underwires but not too high, it's hard! The first shop I went to dutifully referred me to a speciality shop which were able to help me. It was a good thing they were on sale though, because they cost a lot!

For the jeans I thought I would go to a special jeans shop. Makes sense? Not really, since I am not one of the smallest people (width wise) and even the men's sizes didn't fit. In the end I left that shop without jeans and went to the plus size section of our local C&A. One pair of jeans and one pair of trousers. Bingo!

Fortunately the socks were the easiest. So, I decided to make it a bit more difficult for myself and choose some gloves as well. Since I couldn't make a choice between the two, I bought both pairs of gloves and 10 pairs of socks.

The money is gone again, but I can now wear black socks with little white dots without holes, a comfy bra and a comfy pair of jeans. Bliss...

Rabies

Those are not allowed!

When taking cats (or dogs) from one country to another, it isn't just a case of bunging them in a pet carrier and sticking them in a car. Far from it in fact, since there are quite a few things you have to consider.

You need the right pet carrier. You ordinary wicker basket looks great, but is not acceptable on a plane. For that you need special IATA approved pet carriers made out of metal, which have to be able to be locked. Cost? Way more than your pretty wicker basket.

I don't want my photo taken!

You need a passport, but so does your pet! It needs to contain their name, their owner's name, their last vaccinations and you can even stick a photo in! Cost? Way less than your own passport.

Your pet needs all the right shots. Rabies being one of them. Now, in the Netherlands the only animals still carrying rabies are (according to the vet) bats. I don't know where the nearest bats are living, but I do know my cats have never been in contact with them. For starters, they are at home at night! But, they need the shot anyway. Some countries only want them to have the rabies shot, others (Norway amongst them) also want the proof in the puddi blood. IE, after 4 months, I need to have bloodtests done on both cats to show they have enough anti-bodies against Rabies in their blood.

Hello Miss Greeneyes

Then and only then can I take my cats on the journey to Norway. And of course I could have waited until I spoke Norwegian a bit more fluent or even until I had a job, but that would be silly. Since the bloodtest will be good for as long as they live! So, the day before yesterday I bunged both cats in a plastic pet carrier, drove to the animal clinic and got them both shot and passported (hm, somewhere in that sentence something went wrong). Which means that four months from now, they can have their bloodtests. Two weeks for the results and then I can go on my merry way to Norway. Now, is that clever thinking or what?