Mark's Story --Bootlegging in Norway on the High Seas

This is Mark’s story that he wrote for school. (He also handed in a Google translate version)

It Happened in Town.

It was nice day, and there were few clouds. I was walking down by the fortress in Kristiansand when I went out and brought an ice cream cone and some Mozell [Mozell, a carbonated apple juice, is a favorite soft drink in Norway.] When I had my first sip of Mozell it tasted disgusting. I couldn’t guess what that taste was until I thought “white wine”! I went back inside to the shop where I got it and the person showed me the bottle. It was labeled Mozell.

I walked around after that when I saw some men working in a boat. They were bringing bottles in to the shop. The woman working at the shop took out a bottle of Mozell and drank it. She spluttered and said “This is wine.” Some of the men ran and started the boat motor and hoisted its sails, while the man who seemed to be the group’s leader jumped onto a motor scooter and sped off. Actually, the real leader was in the boat. The cashier let me use her motor scooter and I soon sped off. As the man was fleeing north, suddenly something came flying out of his exhaust pipe. It hit my front wheel and popped it. I went flying and ran into the man. A second later, we went flying into a postcard stand! He yanked out a pistol and shot two shots, which cracked a window. He fired one last shot which went into the same window. When I, using all my strength, threw the stand at him, he fell over.

The police arrested the man. Using information from him, they found the smugglers in the boat. The man in the boat led a smuggling organization and the town called me a hero!
The end

Morten Viskum--Contemporary Norwegian Art

So I was intrigued by a poster at the Sørlandets Kunstmuseum of this installation for a 2010 exhibit, and, without knowing anything about the artist, I bought the poster. It turns out that the Norwegian artist, Morten Viskum, has made a name for himself using a severed hand in abstract painting (claiming that he wants his audience to reflect on death and the role of the artist's hand, he refuses to disclose how he came by this hand or whom it is from) and for displaying a crucified rat (looked more like a hamster to me). [I'm sparing you images from his severed hand series, but a simple Google search will lend plenty of examples] So, now I'm not sure if I want to have hanging in my office this poster of a reindeer with tires (which I liked in its playful reminder of the juxtaposition of Norwegian wildlife and fossil fuels) because I will always associate the artist with his gruesome severed hand on a keyboard, which, and, maybe I'm missing something here, seems like a mid-life crisis, horror-show gimmick, but, hey, what do I know? I still like the reindeer.

Walter and his recital at Kristiansand Cathedral

Walter playing Grieg's Valse Impromtu in Kristiansand's Cathedral, the principal Lutheran church for the Agder and Telemark Diocese. High school student Erik Sandø, probably the evening's most accomplished pianist, played Chopin's Vals i e-moll. (Waltz in E minor)

Walter standing in front of the neo-Gothic Kristiansand Cathedral (1880) designed by Henrik Thrap-Meyer. The umbrellas were part of an Kulturskole art installation.

Hanging within the Cathedral near the entrance, this model of the frigate Jylland, which took part in the battle of Helgoland in 1864, memorializes Danish sailors who died in the battle and are buried in Kristiansand's cemetery. (note the Danish flag on the ship)

Bill's reflections on the Nazi occupation and deportation of Jews during WWII

Hi All,

Bill has finished up his blog postings on Norwegian history and culture.  Here is the latest.

http://hellofromnorway.blogspot.com/2011/05/holocaust-in-norway.html

Constitution Day!

It's May 17th, Syttande Mai, or Constitution Day, a day to celebrate the signing of Norway's constititution on May 17, 1814, which declared Norway an independent country, even though Norway was still unified with Sweden until 1905.

The boys marched in parades and sang in the morning and then celebrated at school with games, cakes, hotdogs, waffles, and ice cream.

Before the parade starts with headmaster Espen Lange, Mark, Walter, Hilde, her son Sigmund, her daughter Ingrid and friend.


Martha with Terje and Hilde's daughter Ingrid and friend.


Graduating seniors wearing their red overalls.


The banner for Presteheia Skole


Walter holding the 4th grade sign in the parade


Mark waving on syttande mai.



Guitar player leading his students in song. Children compete for prizes based on how well they sing.


Hilde and Terje, parents of Sigurd, Mark's friend. They kindly took us to the parade and showed us the best spots to stand.


The mother of one of Terje and Hilde's friends. I loved her bunad, which I think is from Telemark.






Aunt Jenny and Uncle Dan, Mark and Walter on Constitution Day


Joyous Dan. It's syttande mai!


Mark, Walter, Sigurd, Ingrid, in front of a statue of the poet Henrik Wergeland, who is credited with making Syttande mai a celebratory day for the children rather than a military display.



Mark with Start player Christer Kleiven.


Johannes' Dad, a former Start player, in his bunad demonstrating his skills on stilts



Dad not having so much luck on stilts

Mark's birthday party

Wow, what an afternoon. We weren't sure how many kids would come but we figured maybe 15 max; instead there were 23, I think, but I lost count. A mixture of bedlam--at one point boys set off the security alarm, another climbed up into the basketball hoop, others crawled under the stage among the folding tables and chairs--and fun--kids played charades with a musical accompaniment, built lego figures, and found bags of chocolate as part of a treasure hunt.

Overwhelmed and out of our element, Bill and I would have been witness to a b-day party maelstrom if it weren't for the kindess of friends and family. Michael, who played the guitar and brought a clarinet for Dan to play; Katinka who led kids on the treasure hunt and served cake; Terje who corralled kids literally climbing the walls, brought legos and also led kids on the treasure hunt, Jan Erik whose commanding voice brought blessed moments of order, and Kristine who cooked hotdogs, led kids and provided much appreciated smiles of encouragement. Bill and I are deeply grateful to you all. Mark had a wonderful time.

And a big thank you to Jenny for taking the pics and helping set and clean up.



Michael and Dan jam.


The wieners, muffins courtesy of Kristine.


Katinka explaining treasure hunt clues.


Jan Erik and Kristine serving hotdogs.


The birthday cards. I loved this pic Jenny took and never would have thought to take it myself.

Update! Eurovision Song Contest

We're watching the finals of the Eurovision contest. Dan and Bill are routing for Moldova because they all wore cone hats and one person rode a unicycle . Azerbaijan is in the lead, and if they won it would be an upset--update! they did win--their act involved insipid lyrics, long blond hair, and sickly sweet romantic longing, but at least it was warm; so much of the aesthetic of the contest was cold, tecno-pop. Sweden's act "I will be popular" is catchy but obnoxious; they're second.

As Americans I think we all wondered what happened to old Europe.

Countries tend to vote regionally--so Scandinavians vote for other Scandinavians, Eastern Europeans vote for neighboring countries, and Russia doesn't seem to have a chance given recent history, none of the Eastern European countries will vote for them (you can't vote for an act from your own country and each country's vote is weighted equally), but Israel voted for Russia probably because of the large Russian Jewish population. Azerbaijan's win will generate a significant economic boost to the country since the Eurovision winner gets to host next year's competition.


Hi All,

I had a wonderful evening watching the Eurovision semifinals with Irene last night. According to the NYT, "forty-three nations, including most of NATO, large swaths of eastern Europe and Israel, send their top pop stars to the Eurovision contest each year to perform previously unpublished songs. Originally conceived as a means of unifying a war-torn Europe, the contest was arguably the most visible symbol of European unity prior to the European Union. Most of the acts sang a kind of English pop mishmash in outlandish campy outfits." http://topics.nytimes.com/topics/reference/timestopics/subjects/e/eurovision_song_contest/index.html

The Irish band made it to the semifinals wearing something that looked like giant red jello blocks on their shoulders. I rooted for the Bulgarian singer, Poli Genova, who sung “Na Inat” (Stubborn) in Bulgarian, which, as I understand it from some Google queries, encourages young Bulgarians to find their dreams within their own country. Genova didn't make it, however.

Apparently the Eurovision Song Contest is quite popular among the European LBGT community. According to Out Now "The most ardent gay supporters of Eurovision hail from Ireland - where a much higher proportion of gays and lesbians than in any other country say they always tune in to catch the Eurovision Song Contest." http://www.gaymarketnews.com/2011/05/just-how-gay-is-eurovision.html

Norway was eliminated early on. Stella Mwangi, a Kenyan Norwegian sang "Haba Haba." Check it out on Youtube

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v-vyK122O_M

Irene's cute cat


Eurovision semifinals. The finals are Saturday.


Irene and skeptical-looking cute cat.

Our hikes to Oggevann and from Saga

It's almost six p.m.; my legs feel like noodles, and I am exhausted. Walter and I decided we would take the "short" hike sponsored by the Livsfaseutvalget and the Pensioners' Club, which I understood from Google translate would be brief jaunts on and off a tour bus with senior citizens, no more than a mile long, a little hike to break up the day. It turned out to be an all afternoon affair hiking up, down boulders, scraggy paths, and at one point rappelling ourselves backward via a rope down a steep precipice. Laughing wryly at the American and Norwegian version of "short hike," I took up the rear depending on the kindness of the tour leader who reminded me to bring water and wear sensible shoes next time. Having been raised on t.v. and Twinkies, this jaunt, which turned out to be 12 km, or 7.5 miles, proved an ordeal, and I was only saved when the octogenarian and a couple of the septuagenarians of the group took pity on me and gave us ride once we had entered Jegersberg, the large wilderness area near our home. Walter, of course, trotted along happily, unfazed, and once he enjoyed a few of the pastry slices that the kind and super-fit octogenarian offered at our resting place near Omvendte Båt, he skipped on ahead of me, calling back occasionally to tell me that "this exercise is good for you."

UPDATE: It turns out that the email I was sent advertising the "short hike" said the trip was to be about a Scandinavian mile, or mil, which is 10 KM or 6.2 miles. Whoops!!

Dad and Mark enjoyed a less strenuous trip, canoeing, boat making, and telling jokes, though Dad got cold, having forgotten to double up his socks.

Walter walking along an area just ahead of a dam.


An ancient burial mound in Skråstadheia.


Walter and I close to the summit. We were close to halfway at this point.


The view of the fjord and Kristiansand. I would not venture close to the edge, but others were more brave.


A map of the protected nature area north of Kristiansand where we hiked.


A young ram we met along the way who was grazing with his friend, a llama. Walter, though skittish, petted the ram, who then stuck close to him until our group departed.


Walter resting, and inching forward closer to the edge.


Mark's hike in Oggevann with his class


Birch bark boats the boys made.


The sleeping leanto where Bill literally got cold feet.


Mark happy. The boys traded jokes at one point and Mark made up two: What do you tell an egg when you want it to leave? "SCRAMble" [This joke unfortunately didn't translate well...] Mark's other joke involved a boy in an airport whose parents disciplined him after he got into trouble. When some late travelers, fearing they had missed their flight, ran up to the boy and asked him what was happening, the boy responded, "I'm grounded," and the travelers, confused, assumed their flight had been cancelled. A British/Norwegian parent translated this joke to laughter from the audience.