My life has become much like the movie "The Sixth Sense". The only difference is that I don't see dead people, I see you, Babies. I see you everywhere. I spot you at the grocery store, on the street, in the park, at the mall and at every restaurant. And you see me. I know you do, because you look at me with your adorable little eyes and flash me a two-teeth smile and before I know it, I'm sold. You are a walking advertisement for reproduction, and Babies, your strategies are working.
I realize that you have always been around. I used to be one of you, just like my parents, cousins and friends did. But for the first 23 years of my life, I barely noticed you. I have no recollection of seeing you as I was growing up, and in middle school I had only ever met a couple of you in person. By the time I finished high school, I still hadn't really acknowledged your existence except for the occasional diaper commercial. When I moved to London, I mostly saw the backs of your strollers as your parents hurried through the park to get home in time for Dancing With the Stars. In the last year, however, your numbers must have multiplied by eighteen.
Although you may seem like a minority because, let's face it, you can't yet run the country or even speak our language, I am starting to think that you outnumber us. It's as though Apple created an iBaby and it instantly latched on as the most obtrusive accessory since Ugg boots. Where I used to see grown-ups, I see you. Where I used to see dogs, I see you. Where I used to see purses and dresses, I see you. And if I don't see you, Babies, my husband does and tells me about you. I find myself straining my neck trying to catch a glimpse of you through the car window. I choke on my food attempting to smile at you across the restaurant. And what you have going for you, Babies, is that everything you do makes my heart feel like a microwaved brownie. It doesn't matter if you stick a finger up your nose, throw food at your dad, cry like carrots really are the devil or wave at me with sticky hands. It's all cute.
Whether you came to be because of some godlike force or as a result of evolution, I realize that your cuteness is a mere marketing ploy to keep humanity from going extinct. Still, your propaganda has worked on me, much like the newsletters I get from Urban Outfitters and Barnes & Noble: I know I must have one of you for my very own. But Babies, when I do, don't cry over carrots. They're good for you.
With Love,
Ina
May 24, 2009
May 20, 2009
Dear Americans
It's been over a year and a half since I packed my bags, labelled my boxes and squeezed into a window seat next to a large Dutch woman onboard a plane heading for Minneapolis. Your country was no stranger to me; I had crossed the Atlantic every other month for a year, each time finding it a little harder to go through security and go back home to London. Although I never imagined I would live in the US, I quickly became at peace with the idea since it meant I would be with my love. At first, I didn't think you were different. You look the same as Europeans, think the same as Europeans and talk like Europeans. Well, almost. I parked my British accent in the back of my brain, and pulled out an American one so that you would understand what I said. Apparently 'water' is a word you have never heard spoken in the Queen's English.
Not long after I made the move, you started asking me questions like 'What were your expectations when you moved here?' and 'What are the differences you've noticed between America and Europe/Norway?' Depending on which one of you I was talking to and whether or not you feel nauseated or happy when you hear the words Sarah Palin, I would adapt my response. Sometimes I would bluntly say that I had a vague feeling that all of you might be overweight Bush-supporters with little knowledge of foreign policy and when footless tights stopped being fashionable. Other times I would shrug and tell you I didn't really know much about Americans before I came here other than what I had learned from shows like Full House, Step by Step and Fresh Prince in Bel Air. Well, Americans, the time has come.
Here is a list, in no particular order (and of no particular length), of the differences I have found between America/Norway and Americans/Norwegians:
1. Norwegians cook at home almost every day. When I first moved here, I was shocked to learn that eating out is as normal, if not more so, than preparing a meal at home. Within my first month of living here, I had eaten at restaurants more than I had my whole life prior to living in the US. At first it made sense; everything is cheaper here and a meal at a restaurant is on average half of what you would have to pay in Norway. Then, when I started thinking about it, I realized that I think eating out is killing your culture. When we dine with my family in Norway, the meal is prepared together; everyone is involved in some way or another, whether it's setting the table, chopping tomatoes or figuring out what everybody wants to drink. When the meal is served, hours go by as the food is slowly devoured by every guest at the table.
Although eating out is happening more and more with younger generations, having dinner at a restaurant is usually assosiated with a celebration of some sort. In my 20 years of living in Norway, I can never recall eating dinner at a restaurant with any member of my family, except for a couple of important birthdays. When you do eat out, the experience lasts just as long as the one in your own home. The server will never bring you your check until you ask for it; you can simply sit at your table and converse or drink or doodle for as long as you wish.
What I discovered when I came to your country was that eating out is not only cheap and fast if you're speeding through a drive-thru, it's cheap and fast if you're having a sit-down meal at a proper restaurant. Before I've even had a look at a menu, American servers have usually thrown half a dozen jellyfish-shaped questions at me. How am I doing? Is this booth ok? Do I want an appetizer? Chips, salsa, bread? Do I want anything besides water to drink? I have a hard enough time figuring out what I might enjoy eating, and I have no interest in an identity crisis occuring because of their questions before I get to page 2 of the menu. And then, before I've finished the last bite on my plate, the average American server will pop out of nowhere while I'm chewing and ask me if I'm finished. As I watch my plate sail away in a sea of uniformed waiters, I wonder if it will take them 1,3 or 5 minutes before the check is promptly placed on the table with a rehearsed 'Anything else I can get for you guys? No? Then I'll just leave this here. Whenever you're ready.'
When you eat out in this country, you choose from such a wide selection of menu items that one person can be eating lobster, while somebody else is having a burger or pasta. To me, this ends up being a very distant and disconnected experience, where we are sharing a meal but not the experience of the meal. I can't turn to my husband's cousin and share my tastebuds' satisfaction with my food, because he or she is most likely eating something entirely different. Part of what I enjoy about a homecooked meal, is sharing the food; the flavors, the smells, the experience.
I could go on and on about this, Americans, because I feel like it is the cause of many of your problems. Instead, I'll show you the math:
Cheap fast food + poor, uneducated people = fat, poor and uneducated people.
Fat, poor and uneducated people + no health insurance = broke, sick, fat, poor and uneducated people.
Broke, sick, fat, poor and uneducated people + time + guns = pretty bad.
2. Norwegians (and Europeans in general) don't all have cars. Yes, Americans, I know this one is hard for you to believe. The picture of American individualism and freedom is so tied into your driving, and I suppose that is why your carpool lanes remain so deserted. When I moved here from London, I had no idea that driving would be the easiest way to get around. I was used to the opposite: driving a car in central London is ten times slower than just getting on a train or a bus. The parking lot at my college had parking spaces for about 50 students. I repeat, 50 students out of approximately 8000. Chew on that for a second. As a student, I did all my errands on foot or by bus, and I was not the only one. Families and business people take public transportation. It's easier, it's cheaper and it's better for the environment. When I first visited LA, one of you told me not to take the bus. When I asked why, I got a vague answer that in essence said that poor/smelly/lame people ride public transportation and that I may get chopped up into little pieces by some lunatic with a chainsaw if I so much as look at a bus passing on the street. Come on, Americans. How can you recycle like there's no tomorrow, when there actually may not be a tomorrow if you keep insisting on driving everywhere? If you want to help save the environment, get up and act. Show your government that you demand a better public transportation system, which brings me to my next point...
3. We are not afraid of our government; our goverment is afraid of us. When people march the streets of Paris, London or Oslo, the government sits up and takes note. They act. They change. They don't want angry mobs gathering outside of their old brick buildings every day. But you, Americans, you think there's nothing you can do. I know, I've asked a lot of you. You see many things that you dislike about your country, but Washington seems so far away and objecting seems to small. Well, Americans, that's your choice. But don't say we didn't show you how it's done.
4. Norwegians don't drink and drive. Or, more accurately, Norwegians don't have even a sip of alcohol and drive. No. We do ride the bus a lot when we're drunk, though.
5. Norwegians pay about $300 for a year of college. Yes, that's the tuition fee.
6. Norwegian babies nap outside. And here's why: fresh air. The idea is that napping outside gives the baby a different environment to sleep in than he or she is used to at night. Outside the baby will be exposed to natural sounds like birds, wind, rain or the neighbor's lawn mower, as opposed to the TV, voices of parents etc. Aren't we worried that someone will steal our kid, you ask? No, not really.
I could tell you about many more differences between us and you. I could tell you about our free healthcare system, that new mothers get a year off work paid to stay home with their babies or that parents get about $200 per kid per month to support their family until the kid turns 18. I could tell you all these things, but Americans, I think you need to go and find out for yourselves. In 2005, only 20% of you owned a passport. That means 80% have most likely never set food outside the borders of this country. I'm asking you as a new addition to your people: please go. See the world. Come back. Talk about it. Discover the things that are good and bad about your country, just like I have discovered mine. Make the changes you want to see in your world. You did good when you picked Mr Obama as your new president, but I think you need to broaden your own horizons before you can really speak his language. So get on that Travelocity website and search for your adventure. And please, learn to understand 'water' as it is said by a Brit.
With love,
Ina
Not long after I made the move, you started asking me questions like 'What were your expectations when you moved here?' and 'What are the differences you've noticed between America and Europe/Norway?' Depending on which one of you I was talking to and whether or not you feel nauseated or happy when you hear the words Sarah Palin, I would adapt my response. Sometimes I would bluntly say that I had a vague feeling that all of you might be overweight Bush-supporters with little knowledge of foreign policy and when footless tights stopped being fashionable. Other times I would shrug and tell you I didn't really know much about Americans before I came here other than what I had learned from shows like Full House, Step by Step and Fresh Prince in Bel Air. Well, Americans, the time has come.
Here is a list, in no particular order (and of no particular length), of the differences I have found between America/Norway and Americans/Norwegians:
1. Norwegians cook at home almost every day. When I first moved here, I was shocked to learn that eating out is as normal, if not more so, than preparing a meal at home. Within my first month of living here, I had eaten at restaurants more than I had my whole life prior to living in the US. At first it made sense; everything is cheaper here and a meal at a restaurant is on average half of what you would have to pay in Norway. Then, when I started thinking about it, I realized that I think eating out is killing your culture. When we dine with my family in Norway, the meal is prepared together; everyone is involved in some way or another, whether it's setting the table, chopping tomatoes or figuring out what everybody wants to drink. When the meal is served, hours go by as the food is slowly devoured by every guest at the table.
Although eating out is happening more and more with younger generations, having dinner at a restaurant is usually assosiated with a celebration of some sort. In my 20 years of living in Norway, I can never recall eating dinner at a restaurant with any member of my family, except for a couple of important birthdays. When you do eat out, the experience lasts just as long as the one in your own home. The server will never bring you your check until you ask for it; you can simply sit at your table and converse or drink or doodle for as long as you wish.
What I discovered when I came to your country was that eating out is not only cheap and fast if you're speeding through a drive-thru, it's cheap and fast if you're having a sit-down meal at a proper restaurant. Before I've even had a look at a menu, American servers have usually thrown half a dozen jellyfish-shaped questions at me. How am I doing? Is this booth ok? Do I want an appetizer? Chips, salsa, bread? Do I want anything besides water to drink? I have a hard enough time figuring out what I might enjoy eating, and I have no interest in an identity crisis occuring because of their questions before I get to page 2 of the menu. And then, before I've finished the last bite on my plate, the average American server will pop out of nowhere while I'm chewing and ask me if I'm finished. As I watch my plate sail away in a sea of uniformed waiters, I wonder if it will take them 1,3 or 5 minutes before the check is promptly placed on the table with a rehearsed 'Anything else I can get for you guys? No? Then I'll just leave this here. Whenever you're ready.'
When you eat out in this country, you choose from such a wide selection of menu items that one person can be eating lobster, while somebody else is having a burger or pasta. To me, this ends up being a very distant and disconnected experience, where we are sharing a meal but not the experience of the meal. I can't turn to my husband's cousin and share my tastebuds' satisfaction with my food, because he or she is most likely eating something entirely different. Part of what I enjoy about a homecooked meal, is sharing the food; the flavors, the smells, the experience.
I could go on and on about this, Americans, because I feel like it is the cause of many of your problems. Instead, I'll show you the math:
Cheap fast food + poor, uneducated people = fat, poor and uneducated people.
Fat, poor and uneducated people + no health insurance = broke, sick, fat, poor and uneducated people.
Broke, sick, fat, poor and uneducated people + time + guns = pretty bad.
2. Norwegians (and Europeans in general) don't all have cars. Yes, Americans, I know this one is hard for you to believe. The picture of American individualism and freedom is so tied into your driving, and I suppose that is why your carpool lanes remain so deserted. When I moved here from London, I had no idea that driving would be the easiest way to get around. I was used to the opposite: driving a car in central London is ten times slower than just getting on a train or a bus. The parking lot at my college had parking spaces for about 50 students. I repeat, 50 students out of approximately 8000. Chew on that for a second. As a student, I did all my errands on foot or by bus, and I was not the only one. Families and business people take public transportation. It's easier, it's cheaper and it's better for the environment. When I first visited LA, one of you told me not to take the bus. When I asked why, I got a vague answer that in essence said that poor/smelly/lame people ride public transportation and that I may get chopped up into little pieces by some lunatic with a chainsaw if I so much as look at a bus passing on the street. Come on, Americans. How can you recycle like there's no tomorrow, when there actually may not be a tomorrow if you keep insisting on driving everywhere? If you want to help save the environment, get up and act. Show your government that you demand a better public transportation system, which brings me to my next point...
3. We are not afraid of our government; our goverment is afraid of us. When people march the streets of Paris, London or Oslo, the government sits up and takes note. They act. They change. They don't want angry mobs gathering outside of their old brick buildings every day. But you, Americans, you think there's nothing you can do. I know, I've asked a lot of you. You see many things that you dislike about your country, but Washington seems so far away and objecting seems to small. Well, Americans, that's your choice. But don't say we didn't show you how it's done.
4. Norwegians don't drink and drive. Or, more accurately, Norwegians don't have even a sip of alcohol and drive. No. We do ride the bus a lot when we're drunk, though.
5. Norwegians pay about $300 for a year of college. Yes, that's the tuition fee.
6. Norwegian babies nap outside. And here's why: fresh air. The idea is that napping outside gives the baby a different environment to sleep in than he or she is used to at night. Outside the baby will be exposed to natural sounds like birds, wind, rain or the neighbor's lawn mower, as opposed to the TV, voices of parents etc. Aren't we worried that someone will steal our kid, you ask? No, not really.
I could tell you about many more differences between us and you. I could tell you about our free healthcare system, that new mothers get a year off work paid to stay home with their babies or that parents get about $200 per kid per month to support their family until the kid turns 18. I could tell you all these things, but Americans, I think you need to go and find out for yourselves. In 2005, only 20% of you owned a passport. That means 80% have most likely never set food outside the borders of this country. I'm asking you as a new addition to your people: please go. See the world. Come back. Talk about it. Discover the things that are good and bad about your country, just like I have discovered mine. Make the changes you want to see in your world. You did good when you picked Mr Obama as your new president, but I think you need to broaden your own horizons before you can really speak his language. So get on that Travelocity website and search for your adventure. And please, learn to understand 'water' as it is said by a Brit.
With love,
Ina
April 8, 2009
Dear Boss
I've worked for you for almost two years now. At first, you seemed like a sweet, laid back person who would be more than happy with my constant tardiness and general lack of structure. Our relationship felt so natural; so effortless. Granted, in the first few months of working for you, I showed signs of extreme laziness and complete lack of creativity. I realize now that I didn't produce the stories you wanted me to in a timely fashion, but Boss, I had so much going on.
You of all people should know the things that have were on my mind back then. Planning a wedding, applying for a green card and buying a house felt like a full time job, and writing was the last thing on my mind. You understood this, and put little pressure on me to be productive. While I appreciated this, Boss, I now realize that while I wasn't being a very good employee, you weren't being a very good Boss either.
So when I told you that it might be a good idea for you to give me deadlines, challenges and critisism, I figured it would make me more focused. What I didn't envision, however, was that you would go from being a relaxed employer to an authoritarian bitch. Before, you let me watch Gilmore Girls and eat Cherry Garcia frozen yoghurt, and now you make me work long hours every day. I write because I love writing, Boss, I really do, but if you could pay me sometime that would be really nice. And while discipline is a good thing, I think your new regimen of having me attempt to write a whole chapter every day is a little bit harsh. I mean, yes, it would make me finish my novel in a month, but let's face it, I have other things to do too.
By other things, Boss, I mean doing dishes, Swiffering the living room, complaining about the upstairs neighbor and surfing Amazon for interesting books. When I do these things now, you get really disappointed in me and coax me to return to my writing. If I get up to refill my water, you question my thirst. If I need to use the bathroom, you question the size of my bladder. If I need to take a break, you question my commitment.
So, Boss, if you lighten up just a tad, I will try to be a good employee and finish my novel for you. Just promise me one thing, Boss: every day when I look into the mirror and see you, please give me a smile. I deserve it.
With Love,
Ina
You of all people should know the things that have were on my mind back then. Planning a wedding, applying for a green card and buying a house felt like a full time job, and writing was the last thing on my mind. You understood this, and put little pressure on me to be productive. While I appreciated this, Boss, I now realize that while I wasn't being a very good employee, you weren't being a very good Boss either.
So when I told you that it might be a good idea for you to give me deadlines, challenges and critisism, I figured it would make me more focused. What I didn't envision, however, was that you would go from being a relaxed employer to an authoritarian bitch. Before, you let me watch Gilmore Girls and eat Cherry Garcia frozen yoghurt, and now you make me work long hours every day. I write because I love writing, Boss, I really do, but if you could pay me sometime that would be really nice. And while discipline is a good thing, I think your new regimen of having me attempt to write a whole chapter every day is a little bit harsh. I mean, yes, it would make me finish my novel in a month, but let's face it, I have other things to do too.
By other things, Boss, I mean doing dishes, Swiffering the living room, complaining about the upstairs neighbor and surfing Amazon for interesting books. When I do these things now, you get really disappointed in me and coax me to return to my writing. If I get up to refill my water, you question my thirst. If I need to use the bathroom, you question the size of my bladder. If I need to take a break, you question my commitment.
So, Boss, if you lighten up just a tad, I will try to be a good employee and finish my novel for you. Just promise me one thing, Boss: every day when I look into the mirror and see you, please give me a smile. I deserve it.
With Love,
Ina
April 7, 2009
Dear Reader
Welcome. You may have been wondering what I've been up to since I last dabbled in the world of blogging. You may have been worried that I was hospitalized with a severe case of Writer's Block, or you may not even have noticed that I was gone. Well, Reader, whatever the case may be, I have resurfaced and I'm finally ready to share my thoughts with you again.
What have I been up to, you ask. Besides graduating, getting married, navigating US immigration laws and curbing my TopShop addiction, I've been busy trying to become the writer I know I want to be. After months of feeling like every word I wrote stared at me as though I was not worthy of its presence, I finally decided it was time to get my shit together.
Now I spend my days cranking out chapters of my first young adult novel, while consuming unreasonable amounts of green tea and blueberries. See, Reader, the beautiful thing about being a writer is that you can show up to the office (aka the couch) still wearing your pajamas. You can write in complete darkness, Google ridiculous things for no apparent reason (you're researching, right?) and if the phone rings you don't have to answer because you're feeling 'inspired'. In between my novel writing, I intend on making regular posts here, but let's face it, Reader, I am the Master of Procrastination and I rule the Land of Distraction.
In this blog I will present a series of letters that I would love to send to people, but never will. You see, Reader, I'm not a person who enjoys confronting people. I will happily point out that your fly is open or that you have spinach in your teeth, but rarely will I tell you what is really on my mind. In this blog, you will be able to find out what I would say to a number of people if I had the guts and the stamps to send them a letter.
Finally, I would like to thank you, Reader, for sticking to your role so well. I'm sorry I drifted from mine for a while, but I appreciate your persistence. As long as you are around to read, I will write. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to the office.
With Love,
Ina
What have I been up to, you ask. Besides graduating, getting married, navigating US immigration laws and curbing my TopShop addiction, I've been busy trying to become the writer I know I want to be. After months of feeling like every word I wrote stared at me as though I was not worthy of its presence, I finally decided it was time to get my shit together.
Now I spend my days cranking out chapters of my first young adult novel, while consuming unreasonable amounts of green tea and blueberries. See, Reader, the beautiful thing about being a writer is that you can show up to the office (aka the couch) still wearing your pajamas. You can write in complete darkness, Google ridiculous things for no apparent reason (you're researching, right?) and if the phone rings you don't have to answer because you're feeling 'inspired'. In between my novel writing, I intend on making regular posts here, but let's face it, Reader, I am the Master of Procrastination and I rule the Land of Distraction.
In this blog I will present a series of letters that I would love to send to people, but never will. You see, Reader, I'm not a person who enjoys confronting people. I will happily point out that your fly is open or that you have spinach in your teeth, but rarely will I tell you what is really on my mind. In this blog, you will be able to find out what I would say to a number of people if I had the guts and the stamps to send them a letter.
Finally, I would like to thank you, Reader, for sticking to your role so well. I'm sorry I drifted from mine for a while, but I appreciate your persistence. As long as you are around to read, I will write. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to the office.
With Love,
Ina
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