ten years in

I realized that this week marks two anniversaries: ten years since I moved abroad, and eight years since my first visit to Oslo. Now, I live with a view of that hotel where I dined with M, and a five minute walk from the microbrewery where we had beers that night. That crazy Icelandic weather I wrote about missing then is something I now take great joy in not having to deal with though. Tonight, for example, I came back from a meeting by bike, passing through Frogner park just as the slanting spring light filtered through the spray of Vigeland's majestic fountain.This is my neighborhood, my city, and it's already full of wonderful friends and favorite secret corners.

My neighborhood has also proved to be full of even more unexpected delights, much of which I can witness from the bay of unbroken windows along the front of my living room. Today the local school's marching band was out rehearsing for the high point of the Norwegian holiday calendar, the 17th of May. For three hours, a battalion of sailor-suited children marched in tight ranks around the streets of my neighborhood. They ended by marching up my street with a collection of small flag-waving children trailing along behind, to collect in front of the fire station I can see from my window. The firemen opened all the engine bays and came out to applaud the band, who then played the national anthem before smartly marching off to their school again.

It reminds me of a phrase my dad used to toss around, "an attitude of gratitude", something I feel almost every day here. How lucky I am to live in such a beautiful place, to be part of such a community! Springtime in Oslo is glorious, a furze of lurid green that mellows into delightfully bosky corners in parks and lanes. Lanes! This is a proper city, the largest population of the country, and yet yesterday I found myself on a potholed dirt lane just minutes from home. This is the city where I can take a 15 minute subway ride from my closest metro station and step off into proper forest. It's difficult to explain just how immediate the transition is from train platform to babbling brook lined with early spring flowers- I still can't quite believe it myself.

I also joined a choir recently in my local church, an elegant early 20th century pile with magnificent stained glass windows and vaguely Viking themed details along the choir loft. Just like my early experiences in Iceland, it's an exhausting and exhilarating few hours of my week. We're going to Hungary later this year and I already expect I'll come back having learned a lot of new Norwegian vocabulary.

And finally, there's this fella... a navy blue eyed Norwegian with a Sunnmøre accent who's been teaching me useful phrases like "there's hope in a hanging snore". Trust me, it makes way more sense in Norwegian.

new year new life

Since last I wrote, everything about my living situation has changed. I'm now writing from a small apartment  in the rather lovely neighborhood called Briskeby in Oslo. It's a short walk to the back entrance of the palace, where a fancifully be-hatted guard stands watch at the back gate, and has a panoramic view of Norwegian landscape above the rooftops to the northwest. The center point of my view is Holmenkollen, the famous ski jump, and in the dark hours of a Scandinavian January, it's illuminated and often shrouded in a snowmaking fog. To the left, further ranges of hills sprawl along until I can't see anymore, and above it arches a vast expanse of sky. At the moment, the sky is low, hidden by heavy snow clouds that have haunted us here for the past few days.

The rest of the apartment is small and quaint and fits me perfectly. I've got space to work and read and sleep and a separate kitchen that even has a tiny dishwasher. My bathroom is dusky pink so of course I had to have turquoise towels. In the process of moving, I also got rid of the things I've been moving around just because, without thinking of why I had them. Friends became the new owners of that random bathrobe I got in a gift bag, all the necklaces that are really just not me, all the sweaters that are too short to feel comfortable in. The end result, a home that delights, where everything has a place and a story. I had my first friends over for dinner on Saturday last week, and the general consensus was that this is indeed, unmistakeably my home.

However, I didn't choose this place for the interior space exclusively. I chose it for what lies beyond. When I walk out the door and around the corner, I've got my very own "main street" lined with cafe-slash-other-things. There's an art gallery cafe, a hair salon cafe, a juice bar cafe, and then a few other just-cafes. Add some swank shops, one of the best delis in Norway, and a convenient tram stop to round out the picture. Complete the image with some charming turn-of-the-century architecture and the promise of leafy trees come summer for pure magic.

In the weeks since I moved in, I've been enjoying the exploration tremendously. Oslo is a proper city despite what people abroad might think. There are those funny corners of the city that have weirdly specific shops- places to go get your saxophone fixed, or areas that are known for a particular cluster of specialty groceries. There's even a food hall! 

But what I love best of all right now, is that when I've had enough of the socializing and the exploring, my little treehouse nest is here for me, all cozy cushions and rugs and candlelight, high above the swirling Norwegian snow. Home at last.