Livin' that Lavapiésant Life

Normally, I don’t think of myself as a very spontaneous person. Maybe I’ll decide to randomly go out to eat spur of the moment, or call a friend from their front steps to see if they’re free, but those are all pretty small-scale things.

And then Spain happened.

My friend from university named Cody decided to move to Spain for a year to teach English. We’d always joked about meeting up in Europe together whilst both here, but neither one of us seriously entertained the thought. However, when a chance meeting left Cody in the company with my only other friend from my American life in Spain (who I knew from high school back in Portland, OR), I decided that I HAD to get in contact, if only to see how life in Madrid was for him.

Turns out that Cody was having the time of his life! He’d flourished living abroad, and had had a much-needed opportunity to relax before the stress of applying law school—all in all, a grand and relatively unexpected gap year. It was so nice to text him that when he invited me to come for a visit I didn’t even hesitate. Or rather, I hesitated for an hour. But then I thought, “Why not?! I have no reason not to go, other than the fact that I hadn’t planned on going.”

With less than a week to go, I had my tickets ready.

I showed up in the Madrid airport after seven hours of delayed flights only to find that my phone didn’t work and Cody wasn’t there. I frantically started roaming the airport, cursing my Gen Y dependence on wifi, only to run smack dab into my friend in the flesh. It had been seven months since we’d seen each other, and we hugged and squealed in the terminal, making quite a scene for the confused Spaniards around us.

We talked non-stop on the subway as we sped along into the heart of Madrid. I arose from the ground so dazzled by the 60-degree weather and dusky evening beginning around 6 pm. I probably looked like I had chanced upon a whole new planet. Needless to say, it was very different from my Nordic temporary home.

I was pleased to find out that Cody’s best friend and former roommate Keira was also staying with Cody for the time being. Similar to Cody, Keira realized that the real world needed to wait for a bit. With nothing but optimism and the comfort of having a friend in a foreign place, she similarly and spontaneously had booked a ticket to stay with Cody for two months.

I had only met Keira once before, and Cody and I would only normally see each other during work shifts or the occasional brunch out. I was elated to realize that spending four consecutive days with these people that I didn’t know very well turned out to be one of the best rewards for my uncharacteristic spontaneity. We instantly fell into a trio of siesta-taking, pastry-eating, greyhound-drinking goofballs. I’d forgotten how nice it was to talk about my former life with people who had actually been a part of it, but who at the same time were also going through the indescribable transformation of living abroad. I found their presence calming in a way that I didn’t even know that I needed; our conversations unknotted my back as the sun soaked our bodies in Retiro park. The abuelas passing by, however, did not feel as relaxed by the good weather. They were, in fact, wearing down coats and shivering in the 65-degree warmth. Tee hee.

This was the first trip I’d taken since coming abroad in which I didn’t feel guilty for relaxing. Maybe it was because of the Spanish way of life, or maybe it was because I hadn’t even expected this glorious little detour. I cried from joy at the prospect of spending only five euros on a single meal after the disgustingly exorbitant prices in Norway. And did I mention that students got into the Prado museum for free?! All in all, I was in heaven.

We celebrated Thanksgiving with several of Cody’s American expat friends, and it was amazing to me how important these traditions are even when thousands of miles away from the tradition’s home. Just like me, I guess. It was pretty strange to not be able to see my extended family for this holiday, as that’s always been a highlight of my November. But I have to say, turkey tastes damn good with a little bit of sangria on the side.

After four days, I was smitten with the prospect of staying in my vacation fantasy and crashing for longer with these wonderful people who had opened up their hearts and one bedroom apartment to me. But final exams were calling, and I had to return to my reality. Which, by the way, is still somewhat surreal to me.

I think if anything, my trip to Madrid was a great juxtaposition to my time in Norway. It was a city bursting with people, poverty, treats, and tricks—very different from the tidy Scandinavian city of Oslo. I’d become enamored by both places, but for very different reasons. And to be honest, as much as I’d enjoyed the passionate country of Spain, I was a little relieved to return to my koselig temporary home that wasn’t as overwhelming to my senses.

However, this chance to further connect with friends from home who were undergoing entirely different yet all together similar experiences made me feel empowered, and grateful for this crazy, unexpected, and all together fascinating experience that has been studying abroad.

What goofballs

Me and my Spanish lover

Exploring coop parks with Cody

Madrid was mad

Lil angels

Thank you for letting me live as a Lavapiésant in the beautiful Lavapiés neighborhood

Stockholmies

Even though I’ve been back in Oslo for two weeks, I can still hear Sweden ringing through my head. Why, do you ask? Because one of the coolest things that we did whilst in Stockholm was visit the ABBA Museum. Which, let me just say, was perhaps one of the greatest curated museums of all time.

On our first day in Stockholm, my friend Laurah and I decided that we needed to see ABBA before anything else (obviously), as we’d heard so much about the museum from other people. And to be honest, it didn’t disappoint. The museum’s motto is “Walk in, dance out,” and I can honestly say that I was already movin’ and groovin’ upon entrance. With their music constantly playing throughout, we learned about how the Swedish band formed and their rise to fame after they won Eurovision with the song “Waterloo.” What I liked most about the museum was that it was interactive. We were able to record our own versions of ABBA karaoke, dance to their music on a disco floor, take ABBA quizzes, and even sing on a stage with holographic versions of the band mates!

The original costumes from when ABBA won Eurovision in 1974

Just one of the gang

Flying ABBA's helicopter!

Laurah is the ultimate Dancing Queen

Spot the diva (aka me)

After that glorious experience, we decided to hit up another museum, as it was raining pretty hard. The Fotografiska museum had come highly recommended, and it honestly was another favorite part of my tip. The installments ranged from famous photographic portraits to exhibits about where Syrian refugee children sleep at night to unknown artists who had won a national photography contest.

Each exhibit kind of left me at a loss for words. I was inspired by the many perspectives in which we capture both life and art, and how often these two fuse together.

A little party favor from the Fotografiska photobooth

After eating a delicious homemade lunch of lox and avocado sandwiches, we ended up wandering around the hipster district of Stockholm, known as SoFo. Coffee shops and vintage stores abounded. I even managed to snag a pair of Armani men’s jean overalls for under $40! It is a glorious outfit that I may never take off.

We had a middle eastern meal for dinner, exhausted but ever so content after our first day, which ended with us finding a hip club where we danced the night away.

Hittin' the town

The next day, we decided to get back on that museum bandwagon and head to the Nordiska Museet, a museum dedicated entirely to Swedish history and culture. This museum was jam packed with everything from small trinkets to huge room recreations of Swedish life from the 16^th century onwards. It was a great museum, and interesting to see how Swedish history overlapped with Norwegian history.

However, it was also strange to be in this museum after having first been to a lot of historical Norwegian museums. In Norway, the Swedes are still made fun of because they had control over Norway until 1905, and are thus slightly disparaged as the “bad guys” in museums. In Sweden, this control over Norway was overlooked in the Nordiska. Instead, the exhibits focused on Sweden’s own victimization, as Denmark controlled Sweden until 1814. It just reminded me of how subjective history books are, and what we assume as fact is not always the case.

To wrap up our two full days in Sweden, we went on a night time walking tour of Gamla Stan, also known as the Old Town. I practically froze my feet off, but the tour about Stockholm’s royalty, Vikings, and the Swedish bloodbath was really fun! Stockholm is also just an incredible city to be a tourist in, as they various islands are so easily accessible and yet so different. Old town was filled with narrow streets and cobble stone paths, and the architecture was just stunning.

Stockholm at Sunset

Laurah and I stumbled upon a Bengali restaurant and ate our pumpkin spinach cury and mango shrimp in silence, so happy and overwhelmed by the long day and good food. It was all we could do not to cry from joy.

I wish that I’d had more time to explore this gorgeous city, especially at a time when it wasn’t so cold or dark. But as far as I can tell, those are pretty much the only two drawbacks of Scandinavia. Hmm, yep. Still definitely worth it.

Trompin' Through Tromsø

Last week I flew back from a weekend getaway above the Arctic Circle. As in, reindeer, polar bears, and the home of Sami culture—Norway’s indigenous population that dates back to over 12,000 years in Nordic countries.

My friend Sofia and I were curious to know more about other parts of Norwegian life not related to Oslo, so a couple of weeks ago we booked our trip. Sofia was one of my friends who I went with to Stavanger for the hiking trip, so I was excited for the chance to spend more time together. Even better, Sofia’s good friend Daniela is studying abroad in Tromsø, so we had a temporary local show us the ropes!

After we arrived, we took a taxi to Daniela’s. From her bunker-like dorm that was powdered with snow, we decided to take a little hike in order to see the Tromsø island skyline and watch the sun set (at 2 pm, mind you). The hike was steep, and we stopped often to both gawk at the view and catch our breaths. We were able to drink directly from a stream we found on our way, as the nature up north is so purely preserved. “Stunning” doesn’t even begin to describe how awe-inspiring Tromsø was.

Probably the best water I've ever tasted

Daniela, me, and Sofia

Panorama of Tromsø

The highest of highs

I adore this lady

By the time we’d hiked about 2,000 feet up the mountain, we realized a bit too late that the sun was setting and it would be totally dark by the time we got back. Daniela suggested that we go down the mountain a different way than we came up, as it was a little shorter. But we didn’t think about the fact that shorter on a mountain equated to “steeper” rather than “easier.” The lack of sun and the below freezing temperatures had made the trail slick with ice, and we shortly realized that it was easier, safer, and much more fun to slide down the mountain on our bottoms. Our involuntary shrieks fueled our laughter as we bounced down the trail together as a slightly sore but good-humored trio. By the time we finished the hike, the northern lights had come out for a little dance above our heads. Humbled by both the mountain and sky, we walked in silence, unable to quite believe our surroundings.

As the sun sets

We started our descent!

At the end of our hike

The next day, we went on an excursion with two Sami guides to their reindeer farm. Prior to this experience, a part of me always assumed that reindeer were these mythical creatures that were about as real as Santa Claus. However, they’re very real (and very strange) creatures. They sort of look like a cross between cows and moose, and their gigantic antlers make them a bit awkward to maneuver around. Also, their antlers actually have fur on them. They don’t molt unless the reindeers begin to fight, and when this happens, the skin and fur come off in strips. So that was fairly gross.

Why walk a dog when you could walk a reindeer?

Oblig tourist shots

Sofia made me do it

Unleashing my inner cowgirl/reindeer herder

lavvo tent

Heyyy buddy

Feeding a reindeer!

The home of Tromsø Lapland Tours!

We fed the reindeer lichen and learned about the exhausting and arduous lifestyle of reindeer farmers as they migrate through the mountains. We also got the opportunity to walk a reindeer like you might a dog, as that is how they’re trained to obey for sledding. After then trying to lasso reindeer (unsuccessfully, I might add), we were famished. Our guides invited us in to a Sami tent called a lavvo where we warmed ourselves around the fire and ate bidos—a traditional soup made of broth, carrots, potato, and reindeer. I know that I had just come from feeding reindeer to feeding ON reindeer, but the good taste pretty much overwhelmed my moral misgivings.

As we ate, our Sami guides Ken and Roland told us of the history and culture behind Sami life, including how it’s changed over the years. We got to see traditional clothing made of reindeer skin and furs worn in temperatures as low as -60.7 degrees Fahrenheit, silver jewelry used during celebrations, and the tools that every reindeer herder needs to survive, all of which were handmade. Knives serve a multitude of purposes for Sami herders, and Ken received his first knife from his grandfather when he was just three years old! Then Roland sang us two yoiks, which are traditional Sami chants that are often non-verbal but meant to convey a feeling about a person or an experience.

By the time we left the tent, Sofia and I were dazed. It felt like we’d been transported to a whole other world for a while. To get back into the swing of things, we met up with Daniela and her friends to go ice-skating. Now, I’ve only ice-skated four times in my entire life, and I was certain that I was going to make a fool out of myself in front of my new Scandinavian friends. While I was not the most graceful girl on the ice, I was able to skate on my own the whole time, which in my book is a huge achievement! I even played a little bit of ice handball with everyone!!

Sunday was our last day in Tromsø. It was unfortunately a very gray and rainy day, so after making a relaxed brunch we took a bus to a local Christmas market where we were able to ogle at all sorts of hand-knitted clothing and home baked goods. Although it was only mid-November, it certainly felt like the Winter Solstice in Norway.

We left Tromsø exhausted, happy, and most of all even more deeply in love with Norway. This country has been so good to me, and being able to experience so many amazing natural phenomena in such a relatively small country has left me hungry for more adventures. And also hungry for more reindeer meat. Sorry, Rudolph.

Sofia and me, feeling like the luckiest of ducks

Vienna Vixens, Part II

By the time we made it back to Vienna, we were extremely sleep-deprived and still slightly hung over. At this point, the bone weary exhaustion of constantly being on the road for the past several days with little rest had seeped into our last remaining day of vacation. However, we all felt that we had to seize every last opportunity that we could. Rather than making us triumphant, this optimism in the face of fatigue just made Keet really sassy, Hannah very giggly and me a little loopy. We trudged around the city on a self-guided tour for a solid five hours, going back and forth between being in a coma of quiet and cackling with deranged laughter.

Vienna was a lovely city, but I think that I needed more time there to explore and fully appreciate its Austrian ambiance. After the pulsating mecca that was Budapest, I wasn’t quite ready to let another city into my heart as easily. But we enjoyed noodling around Schönbrunn Palace and the Museumsquartier, among other places.

Sunset in Vienna

Hofburg Palace

St. Stephen's Cathedral-- I'm in love with neo-gothic architecture

When we left St. Stephen’s Cathedral, we were stopped by one of the many young ticket scalpers trying to sell Viennese opera tickets. His name was Agon, and he attempted to simultaneously sell us vouchers while trying to unsuccessfully flirt with all of us at the same time. He was able to convince us that he could give us the best deal in town on an amazing opera and ballet that highlighted all of the grandeur of Vienna’s cultural glory days. We decided to just go for it when he offered to throw in a free ticket so that it was a little cheaper to split three ways.

As we were paying for our tickets, Agon proceeded to awkwardly hit on Hannah. “Do all Irish girls have beautiful blue eyes the color of the sea?” He asked her earnestly.

“Um,” Hannah said. “Sure?”

He proceeded to make it clear that he’d be happy to show us the bar scene after the concert if we so pleased. We noncommittally changed the subject and said goodbye, but not before he’d stressed that this was probably going to be the best concert we’d ever been to.

We arrived at the concert hall’s address later that night, and instantly realized that we’d been duped. Maybe it was the chintzy children’s daycare on the ground floor level, or perhaps it was the fairly empty “concert hall” that gave it away. Hannah groaned as we got to our seats. She hadn’t been thrilled about the opera, quartet, and ballet pitch, but Keet and I had talked her into it. After all, when else were we going to see all of these things together in the place where much of European high culture had been immortalized? Once she’d seen the rickety folding chairs and cheap posters of Mozart, though, she was the first to vocalize her disdain for the “charming” Albanian ticket scalper.

I actually really enjoyed the music. The quartet sounded lovely, and although the ballerina was subpar, the opera singers were great. Hannah kept squirming in her seat and making funny faces and me and Keet. As soon as the quartet stopped for an intermission, Hannah turned to us and said, “If I’m going to get through this, I need to have alcohol in my body. And potentially strangle Agon if I see him.”

“Oh, c’mon,” I said. “It’s not that bad…”

Hannah just shot me a dirty look. Several minutes later, she returned with a beer in each hand.

I have never seen anyone down two beers as quickly as my petite Irish friend did that night. I could not stop laughing as Hannah proceeded to get both tipsier and crankier simultaneously. She kept muttering things to herself like, “the microwave and plastic forks totally fit with the traditional Viennese theater décor,” and “Why do people even LIKE opera?” Her surliness was all in good humor, and when combined with the overtiredness that walking all day had provided, Keet and I were trying with every ounce of willpower we had to not pee ourselves with laughter.

The opera ended, and we consoled Hannah in her misery by complimenting her new cultured bragging rights about seeing an opera in Vienna (albeit a mediocre one). She was still unimpressed by this, so we let her have her pick of any pub for an after show drink. We ended our trip that night drinking wine in a traditional Austrian pub where the waiters wore lederhosen and the men around us all drank Stiegl with their Weinerschnitzel, laughing together until our eyes were wet and our stomachs hurt.