And the Quote of the Week Goes to...

The music program Lydverket aired a clip from next week's show which is about gettin' funky. And oh my god - the ol' Atomic Dawg hisself sat in a boat in the middle of Sognefjorden and said, "Fishing is as funky as it gets."

Really, there is nothing left to say.

Who Talks Like That?

Try this trick next time you pick up a cup o' joe at your corner coffee joint and place your order - without irony- like this:

“I greet thee, Mistress. Is the day not fine? Hast thou a cup of your finest caffeinated brew that I might partake of whilst en route?”

I realize now that this how I sounded to the Egyptians while I was speaking the Modern Standard Arabic and not the local dialect they speak. I was slightly misled by well meaning Egypt-expats in the US who said that people would understand me if I used Modern Standard Arabic. Once in Cairo, my Egyptian friends warned me that I sounded, well, a bit formal. No one told me that I sounded like an absolute jack-ass. Yes, people understood me, yes shopkeepers gave me what I asked for and yes, they never once dropped the "wtf" look of puzzlement from their faces. It was easier to speak English in Cairo rather than Modern Standard. Eventually, I managed to learn enough of the Egyptian Arabic to get through the day.

These revelations come a bit late, but they came at all because I've started studying the Modern Standard again. There are a lot of similarities between the Modern Standard and the Egyptian Arabic, which helps. So far, I'm ahead of the curve with vocabulary and waaaaaaaay behind everyone else in grammar. My brain is starting to get the hang of it, but every cell in my body screams "Who talks like that?"

To my lovely friends in Egypt, all I can say is that al-hamdu li'llah I finally, finally get what you were trying to tell me.

On this day

September 11th has become our generation's "Where were you when Kennedy was shot?" Everyone remembers where they were when the planes hit New York City, Washington DC and southern Pennsylvania.

My new friends and I were coming back from the AUC campus to the dorms via the shuttle bus. The day was typically hot for Cairo in late summer and our lips were still stained with fresh pomegranate juice. This was about 4 o'clock in the afternoon Cairo-time, so the pictures of the smoking towers were broadcasting for approximately 30 minutes. The students who were watching the news in the TV lounge were talking rapidly at us as we climbed off the bus. I can still recall the looks on people's faces as disbelief faded into sickening realization.

Well, there's a lot to be said about this day and the ensuing madness. Issues such as security, civil liberties, Muslims, oil and terrorism are debated in every shade of the political spectrum. There's really no point to bring up my point of view here; it can be found elsewhere.

There are, however, a few things I would like to say. First, I would like to know why my suitcase is so interesting to US airport security. It is absolutely ravaged every time I travel to or from the US. If the security-powers-that-be think I am a threat because I have Arabic stamps in my passport and CVS cosmetics in my baggage, I wish they'd use a little bit more of the tax payer's money to update my files. The nice folks from NSA, CIA or Homeland Security or whoever the hell is handling my case could simply ask me, "Are you planning to endanger the lives of others?" Then I could simply answer "No" and then I'd be declared no longer a threat and then they could stop harassing the poor textiles in my suitcase.

The second thing that disturbs me about this mess (and there's a lot, mind you) is the recent Senate report which reveals there was no connection between Al-Qaida and Saddam Hussein. (NPR, MSNBC) Based on this report, the US has proudly fucked up another country to get a bad guy, but we didn't get the bad guy. The person or persons responsible for the strikes on NYC, DC and PA is/are still at large.

Nice going, Dubbya. I feel secure now.

Mushrooms and Berries

[soundtrack: Talking Heads, (nothing but) flowers ]

Wild mushrooms and berries are the true delight of Norwegian autumn. I've gone a bit crazy for the berries this year. I started picking cherries and gooseberries in late July, cloudberries in early August and black & redcurrants later in the month. Traditionally, the cloudberries are saved for Christmas dinner and eaten with sugar and cream, with a side of brandy and coffee. My favorite winter treat last year was raspberry soup with a touch of brandy and a dollop of sour cream. This year, the berries will supplement the dreary selection of fruits and vegetables with various berry sauces over warm rice or semolina pudding, in addition to the raspberry soup. These are the delights that are harvested now and eaten later.

Mushrooms, however, are plucked now and eaten now. Mushroom hunting is a nice excuse to get out in the woods on the last days of summer. Anders makes the best dinners with the mushrooms he finds, which makes it worthwhile to go out even in the rain for these tasty fungus treats. He cooks a bit of bacon in a frying pan and reserves the fat. He then slow cooks the mushrooms in the bacon fat, adding onions at towards the end of the cooking time. He'll then reserve the resulting sauce. The mushrooms-bacon-onion mix is heaped upon savory crepes or thick pieces of whole-grain bread. A bit of parmesan or blue cheese is added, then the sauce, and voila! a lovely autumn meal is served.

I still miss cider and the pumpkin treats that pop up in autumn Stateside. I still miss the vivid colors of the trees and the scent of fallen leaves. Just as it happened to me in Cairo, there are things I'll come to miss should we ever move from Oslo. The fresh berries and mushrooms are a few of the things I can name, and Lord knows what else.

Found

Two years ago, thieves yanked Edward Munch's two most famous paintings, The Scream and Madonna, right off the walls of the Munch Museum in Oslo. I watched the news with interest, but what surprised me the most was the attitude of the Norwegians. With all the nonchalance in the world, they were like, "Oh yeah, I heard about the robbery." My art history self reacted with a bit more indignation, but nothing seemed to rile the partner in conversation. As if talking about a cat that went astray, the Norwegians comforted me and said that they'll be back. After all, thieves had stolen The Scream two times before.

And so they were right.