20.11.13

falling into place

Lately I've been thinking a lot about those quality of life surveys that definitively declare THIS city or THAT city is absolutely the best to live in. Most of the time their methods are suspect and sponsored when I dig further, but I remember one survey that defined it as a life that was absent as much friction as possible. They looked at cities where you could expect infrastructure to work and be comprehensive, where the trains are punctual and your daily life isn't interrupted by constant bureaucracy and complexity.

That's pretty much how it feels to live here, and I feel it every day in so many ways. For example, after a few months in Germany, I quickly learned that it's a constant battle against the hard, mineral laden water. It encrusts your shower head, plugging the individual nozzles so only half of them work on a good day. I'm still working on chipping the bits of mineral deposit off the teakettle that boiled German water for nearly two years, while here, the shower runs silkily and my hair is always happy. It's a taste difference too, one of the things I feared I'd miss when leaving Iceland that I find isn't compromised here either.

I also think about it on trash days, where they've got a handy tri-barrel system so each house is able to compost and recycle paper separately. They even provide free compostable bags, and if you need more, just tie a bag on the handle of your barrel, and they drop more off. After growing up composting, then living in a dozen apartments that didn't support it, I'm thrilled to have my little compost bin under the sink. Small things on a daily basis are what make up so much of your life, right?

This town has not historically been considered the most glamorous of Norwegian locations, but that's part of what I like about it. There are remnants along the river of its past as a paper producing town, in the form of some rather nice old brick factories. In the center of town, Norway's oldest brewery still churns out liters of beer in its elegant gray 19th century building that stretches along the riverfront, and on the downriver side, one of the country's biggest ports ensures constant ship traffic up and down the fjord.

A recent boom in immigrant populations has also ensured a wonderful selection of grocery stores. I visit these regularly, aboard my trusty red bicycle that was imported at some effort during our last trip to Germany. Since my first rather depressed impression of the town's busy roads, I've discovered a parallel network of bicycle and footpaths, allowing me to access these fascinating stores along with the center of town across the river. On weekends, the square seems to always have something new going on, varying from music performances to a farmer's market where I always buy our honey from the guy who produces it. It's also worth stopping by to see if the donut lady is there, selling donuts as good as the ones I remember from my childhood, a fluffy cloud of a center surrounded by crisp perfection.

Earlier tonight, I also discovered yet another thing to love. One of the paths I take to the grocery store goes past the local sports area, starting with the local football/soccer team's stadium, then the local playing fields, and finally one of the newest Olympic-size swimming pools in Norway. Rising behind everything is our own tiny ski piste, still waiting for the snow to fall. A few weeks ago, the playing fields were converted to a massive ice rink, complete with a pair of zambonis that zipped around in the evenings between hockey matches. How cool to live in a town with its own ice rinks! It got even better today when they replaced all the hockey goals with lane markers and the entire rink was full of tiny speed skaters. Clearly, Norwegians know much better what to do with cold weather than other nations.

The presence of all this outdoorsy activity and forested hills has been inspiring for my own routines, and now as the days grow short (although thankfully not as short as in Iceland), I'm going for lunchtime runs along the river. I've got a good 8-10k loop that goes through the part of town with the cobblestone street and the 19th century wood homes painted in deep Victorian colors, then over the bridge and back along the river where the old manor house stands. It's got a lovely garden where I met a pair of peacocks a few months ago, although now it's locked up tight and the birds have been taken to roost elsewhere. The end of my loops are in the neighborhood on the other side of the train tracks from my new home, where multi-family homes climb in steep terraces up to the forest's edge.

It's at times like this when I realize just how spoiled and fortunate I am, to have the choice of fjord, forest, or river views on my run, all accessible directly from my front door. Living in a beautiful place where the water is clean and delicious, and where I can see the stars twinkle overhead from home is a privilege that helps me step outside myself on a regular basis. The trash bags and bicycle-powered grocery shopping are not quite as traditionally enchanting, but they also add that little extra bit to the low friction life where I now find myself.