A Poem of Goodbye, A Poem of Hope

Yesterday late morning, I sat in the lobby of my library drinking coffee out of one of my favorite cups and got lost writing a letter to a friend. Taking a break I flipped through the pages of my notebook and found an old poem I'd begun while still a patient at Mercy. I say begun because at the time no matter how hard I tried the feelings and message I was trying to convey refused to be spun into words. I now think that its because those emotions were still to new and choppy, to full of doubt and hesitance to be formed into something as substantial as words. In the battle over my mind she was still largely in control. I wasn't sure recovery was possible, didn't know if it was what I really wanted. Yesterday though, the words finally came...

I said goodbye and magic happened

I broke free and now can fly

I can see love in moonlight madness

And know peace in starry nights

My kitten purrs and joy abounds

Book pages turning bring delight

Scents of cooking now are comfort 

And coffee brewing sets the world right

I said goodbye and magic happened

I said goodbye and found myself

I said goodbye to pain, to sadness

And said hello to happiness

I want to be clear that the fact that I was able to finish the poem now is not a sign that I am rid of her influence. It will be a long, long time before I am completely free of her taunting voice and attempts to trip me. I still have to fight every day, and an actual update on where I am with that is coming. The struggle is less though and her territory of control dramatically diminished. Writing this poem I realized that I no longer have moments where I miss the darkest days of her reign. That's huge. When I think of where I was a year ago, of what routine she would push me through on Friday nights, the relentless death march she ordered each Saturday, and the Sunday morning torment I had to look forward to I shudder. What I now am up against is the comfort of the fight itself. This blurry gray area that allows her the more than occasional win - where I push myself harder than my body deserves in a workout, where I pick a safe food over one filled with nerves, where I still feel guilt with every bite of food I take. This has all become a familiar dance and one that I, at times, am reluctant to let go of. I got this far though; there's a lot to be said for just that. And one day, one day, I'll get to the point where all I am is me.

The Beginnings of Goodbye

So it's been awhile. Three weeks. I've taken a bit of a break from writing since returning to the states with several reasons why. Mostly I have been trying to focus my energy into learning to be ok that I'm here again, that I'm no longer in Norway. When I left it behind I felt I was saying goodbye to Alaska. It's as though a piece of my heart has been ripped away, and as wonderful as Maine is I just haven't been able to breathe right since. Among the many things I learned in Norway, one of the biggest is that for my life to be whole I need to live within mountains. It hurts to be away from them. I am in the process of turning that knowledge into reality by planning a move back west; however, I am so far clueless as to where and when exactly I will go. I hope to know soon, and will share with you all once I figure it out.

It has been strange to not have a set schedule and routine to go back to. The fact that I'm not waking up and driving to work each day feels foreign and more than a little disconcerting. The cats love that I'm home more, especially Faelina, and I am doing my best to stay busy. I have lined up some temporary work that will begin next week, and most days I'm spend at least a couple hours looking for full time work out west.  I've been volunteering at the animal shelter quite a bit, and I am also letting myself take time to enjoy some of my favorite solo activities.

I am reading more now than I have in ages. I pieced together a jigsaw puzzle for
the first time in years (Faelina very enthusiastically took on the role of playing with the puzzle pieces all over the apartment!). I went over to a friends in the middle of a wicked hot afternoon to swim laps and cool off in her pool. And held an impromptu art night with my neighbor. Pretty much as soon as I landed in Norway, my night owlish tendencies came out in full force and my return to Maine has done nothing to quell that. It is rare for me to close my eyes before midnight and my evenings are spent in quiet happiness as I dive into whatever sparks my interest that night. I walk daily through Bowdoin but am no longer limited only to the afternoon hours; I can go during the sunrise, right at midday, or at night in the moonlight. I got my hands on small booklet "A Women's History Walking Trail" that led me down Maine street, through the Bowdoin quad, and past neighborhood homes filling my mind with stories of the strong women who helped shape this town into what it is today. To my delight, one trail led me right back to my apartment. I had always wondered what the upper floors of my building used to be and I now know they were once a high quality dressmakers shop.

There are also town events and activities that work always prevented me from attending but can now explore and participate in at leisure. On my first day back I walked down the street to listen to that night's 'Music at the Mall', a weekly summer event where a local band sings in the gazebo at the park entertaining young and old alike. A couple days later I discovered that the same park plays host to a small summer Farmers Market every Tuesday and Friday morning. I had never known this because I was always at work during that time. I love being able to walk down and buy delicious, locally grown kholrabi, golden beets and summer squash. There's even a stand selling local coffee!

Speaking of coffee, I was ecstatic to learn about the 'Free Coffee Fridays' at my library. I mean coffee and books - it's the best combination?! The library also had an evening craft night, where the public was invited to come make buttons, magnets and coasters out of old maps. My neighbor and I both went and we were instantly swept up in the excitement an bustle of craft making. It truly was an event for everyone and around us were parents with young children, middle aged couples and singles of all ages. As we all rifled through pages of maps in search of our favorite places the stories of where we had each been couldn't help but be told, and the sight of all the places we still had yet to explore ignited our wanderlust like wildfire. I had fun with all the crafts but definitely got a little carried away with the button maker! Another library event was an evening showing of "Exposed - USDA's Secret War on Wildlife", a video created by the Defense of Predators organization. To say I enjoyed that would be a stretch, I was almost in tears at one point, but I did find it incredibly informative and am glad I went. I am posting a link to the video here and ask that you all take the time to watch it as well.

A much more pleasant movie experience, was Brunswick's "Movies in the Park".
I'd never attended this before since it was always held late on a work night. I almost didn't go this time, only the knowledge that this was my last chance to ever attend persuaded me. I appeased my inner introvert by promising I could leave after a half hour. As I reached the park though I felt the edges of that promise begin to unravel when I saw the path leading into it was lit with sparkling lanterns hanging from the tree branches above me. It was completely dark by that point and the light from the movie screen was the only thing that allowed me to see the crowd of people spread out on the hill in front of it. Halfway up the hill I stopped and leaned against a tree taking in the scene of families and friends grouped together on blankets and sitting in camp chairs, eyes fixed on the screen, and the sound of the movie filling the air. They even had a small stand to buy popcorn if one was so inclined. I was enchanted by it all and only left once those ending credits flashed on the screen...

These past weeks have made me fall in love with Brunswick and Maine all over again. The idea that I will soon no longer be able to step outside and walk down the street to Bowdoin, go sit in the peace of my library, or step inside to Gelato Fiasco for my favorite coffee saddens me. I think if Brunswick did have mountains I would be ok and could stay here happily for years more. But it doesn't, and I'm not, so I must go. I am thankful though that I have been granted this time right now to fully take in an enjoy all it has to offer.

Goodbye - for now

A month ago I was sitting in my living room on the eve of my departure writing a post about my upcoming Norwegian adventure. I didn't know what to expect but was full of hope for the unknown. Now I am sitting in another living room on another eve, that of me leaving Norway to return to Maine. This has been unquestionably the best month of my life, which is saying a lot because a) I have had a truly remarkable life, and  b) 2 1/2 days this month I spent stuck inside battling a terrible case of food poisoning. I don't want to leave. I am desperate to stay, and if there were any feasible way to move here today I would. Not for forever mind, Alaska is still where my heart truly lies, but for a year or two...maybe three.

I love Norway. I love whatever power (I'll leave what that is exactly up to each of your personal beliefs) shaped this beautiful country full of mountains, fjords, hills, river, lakes and waterfalls. I love the long summer days and knowing that in winter the nights are long like they should be. I love the beaches, their blend of soft waves and smooth sand so perfectly pristine it's barely possible to believe they are part of this earth. I love that you don't need to drive for hours to experience the loss of civilization; just a 20 minute drive and you're alone. I love the lack of bugs, the lack of humidity, the constantly changing weather. I love sweet, fresh smelling air. I love all the varieties of flowers. They even have fireweed here, fields of beautiful magenta, a sight I love dearly and have so missed in Maine. This place is my European Alaska.

I love Norwegians. I love the sense of trust that exists among the people here. Kids play outside alone because it's safe to do so, strangers can wander through farm fields full of sheep and cows because there's no question of whether or not they'll damage the farmland or bring harm to the livestock, where cars don't need to be locked, and if you lose your wallet somewhere there's a better than good chance that whoever finds it will return it to you. I love their charming quintessential Norwegian houses with two front doors (one that stays clean for guests and the other that only the family can see and therefore leave in chaos - an idea I'm sure mushers everywhere could get on board with) and grass roofs. I'm in awe of their toughness, something that exists in everyone at every age. I've seen toddlers excitedly scrambling up mountains like it's the easiest thing in the world, and 80 year old women with walkers walking on the street, uphill, without skipping a beat or missing a breath. They bike up hills that would kill me if I tried and an overnight ski trip in a blizzard - totally normal.

I am under no illusion that if I move here life will suddenly become perfect. It will in fact be really hard. There will be bills to pay, errands to run, an unexpected crises to overcome. Whatever job I could find it will bring in a lot less than my friends make and that will mean I might not have a super nice place to live, or a car, I might have to forgo certain food favorites, and exciting outings might be few and far between. I will have to set some type of system up back home for regular shipments of my favorites - cinnamon apple spice tea (something I think Norwegians are seriously missing out on), shampoo, granola bars that can't be found here, and all the different peanut butters I love.  I'm sure I will have days where I'm frustrated with the fact that everything closes so early, or that nothing is open on Sundays. There will be times I'll be homesick for the states, that I'll miss desperately having a support system just a phone call away. There will definitely be tears, moments of deep self-doubt, and a question mark on what impact a change of this magnitude will have on my mental health and recovery from anorexia. I think though, that the magnitude of those obstacles will be lessoned somewhat, will lose some of their power, by the geography of the country itself.

I really don't think I can ever fully express the strength, the sense of wholeness - completeness, the presence of the mountains bring to me. They speak to some deep part of my spirit in a way that nothing else has. When I am not able to look up and see them spread out on the horizon there is a part of me that feels it's died. I cannot be truly me without them. Here I would have that. During this trip I read a book titled "The Almost Nearly Perfect People" by Michael Booth. It's a book that explores the cultural depths, both the highlights and pitfalls, of each of the five Nordic countries (Norway, Sweden, Finland, Denmark and Iceland). Booth talks about Norwegians deep connection to the nature around them, to the land they live on. He says that Norwegians have a great love for  'friluftsliv', the open air life. I almost dropped the book when I read that, because in the deepest heart of my dreams I crave that more than anything else.

My bags are packed and tomorrow I leave, but I know now I need to expend every effort to one day return. After all when one encounters something whose whispers beckon so strongly, a place who echoes a soul so perfectly matching their own, a land that each day sets their dreams a flight, what other choice is there...

 

~*~*~*~

Delectable Delights

Over time most places build up a reputation and become known for certain foods or special dishes, things that a person can point to and say 'That is quintessentially ...". Norway is no exception, and if one just researches 'Norwegian foods' online they will be provided with a bevy of such delights. However, eating out in Norway is kind of ridiculously expensive, so the majority of my meals and snacks have been at home and made from what I could buy at the grocery store. Not to mention food is kind of a tricky subject with me. I have taste tested a few things though and that is what this post is about.

Seafood
If you look up Norwegian foods, every single result will at least mention seafood. I thought Alaskan's loved their salmon and halibut, but Norwegian's take it to a whole other level. Walking down the seafood aisle at the store you'll find dozen's of smoked salmon options, endless supplies of shrimp, fish burgers, fish pudding (this looks truly horrendous), stuffed crab, crab legs, lobster, oysters, mussels, I could go on forever. Obviously I couldn't let my time here in Norway pass without tasting some of local sea fare.

Smoked salmon is a big favorite, and is something I've been a fan of for years, but another popular salmon choice is "gravlaks". This is a raw salmon that has been cured, usually with salt, sugar and dill, that is typically served on bread with some kind of mustard or dill sauce. I bought some laks to try at home. I love smoked salmon. I've discovered I do not particularly care for gravlaks.
Luckily, my other Norwegian seafood experience was much more enjoyable.

In a turn of events that was pure luck, my aunts Betty and Donna were on vacation in Norway, and the dates and location of their or trip just happened to coincide with mine. So Kairi, Eric and I arranged to have dinner with them on their last night in Stavanger. Eric and I wanted a place with seafood, and my aunts had met a couple who raved about a popular restaurant in the heart of Stavanger's Sentrum, Fisketorget. It was my first time eating in a restaurant since I'd gone to Mercy. I was nervous but think I managed pretty well. Kairi and I shared 4 kilos of local shrimp, or 'reker'. It was very good, especially when the shrimp was dipped in the pesto sauce that came with it. I tried Eric's mussels - not my thing, had a bite of Betty's link - super delicious, and a couple spoonful's of Donna's fish soup - hands down the best fish soup I've ever had. The meal also came with rich wholesome bread for everyone to enjoy - and I did.



Brunost
Cheese, a delicious food loved by many and Norway has one that I've never seen anywhere else. Brunost, or brown cheese, is described as "a sweet, dense caramelized brown Scandinavian whey cheese...it gets its brown colour and fudge like texture from the slow simmering process which allows the milk sugars to caramelize". My description "IT'S REALLY GOOD!"  Most people will have brunost in thin slices on rye bread, but my favorite is a ciabatta roll, topped with mustard, brunost and mashed avocado.



Solbaersaft
The day I hiked Kjerag, our guide passed around cups of hot black current juice for everyone to enjoy with their lunch. It was rich and sweet and super, super delicious. He told us it was a locally made product and we even made a brief stop at the shop he purchased it at on our way back to Stavanger. Although I'd gotten none that day I made another visit to that shop after hiking Månafossen and purchased a bottle. I didn't plan on drinking it hot though, I had another idea in mind. In Germany there is a very popular drink called "apfelschorle", which is a combination of apple juice and sparkling water. I haven't seen any apfelschorle here but I got the idea to make my own Norwegian version with my new bottle of solbaresaft! The verdict: 'solbaresaftschorle' amazing!  (and yes that is just juice and sparkling water, not wine, I just got a little fancy with the glass!)



Lappes
My first day here, Katy had mentioned Norwegians pancakes called lappes. She said they were good and I should try them and I got my chance this week. An hour away from the house is Byrkjedalstunet, a charming little hotel/restaurant/gift shop (it's the place wth the

solbaresaft). I have been there four times this month and it is hands down one of my favorite places in Norway. They have lappes, and after Månafossen I decided it was time to try one. I went up to the counter and asked for "en kaffe og en lappe". The girl placed one on a plate and asked if I'd like raspberry or strawberry jam on top. Since I'd been eating a lot of actual strawberries here I chose the first option. Then she asked if I would like some sour cream on top too. Now I'm a person who thinks the mere act of putting butter on pancakes ruins them, I'm pretty sure that sour cream would turn me off them forever so I did not elect that option. It turns out that lappes taste just like pancakes, but really well made ones! I've looked up lappes online but haven't found anything referencing them. According to the internet, Norwegians call their pancakes 'pannekake', but lappes or pannekakes - they're good either way!


Sjokoladepiken
Tucked in the heart of the Sentrum sweets is a tiny little shop called Sjokoladepiken or Chocolate

Girl. From the moment I saw it I was completely charmed. It offers locally made chocolates, a full espresso bar, and handmade ice cream. I have tried their espresso shots, Americano and hot chocolate - all exemplary. I took a small bite of Eric's chocolate ice cream - splendidly sweet. It took me a long time though - three weeks - to work my way up to the truffles, but I finally got there. I've tried their dark chocolate hazelnut, dark chocolate coffee and cognac, dark chocolate covered marzipan, and the 'Violetta' which is dark chocolate filled with dark chocolate crème. The marzipan one was my favorite, but I would happily bite into any one of them again!


That's about it as far as local specialties that I have tried. There are a few other popular Norwegian dishes such as 'Smalahove' which is literally a lambs head that has been salted and boiled, and 'Lutefisk' which is stockfish softened with water and lye before being cooked, but I don't think I will ever feel the need to try either of those ever. Norway also has a national drink called 'Aquavit' a "a potato-based spirit flavored with herbs such as caraway seeds, anise, dill, fennel and coriander" that is apparently a popular Christmas option, but again I don't think that's one I'll ever feel the need to taste. 'Kransekake' on the other hand, an almond wreath cake consisting of 18 layers, is a Norway favorite that I've actually had a couple of times back in the states and that I do definitely recommend. Chocolate is of course a very popular favorite among everyone, particularly milk chocolate, and huge chocolate bars by the company 'Freia' fill the aisles at the grocery stores. Norwegians also have an affinity for licorice - mainly black licorice - and one can find several different options for this treat just about anywhere.

One things for sure though, whether your taste buds prefer sweet or savory and safe well prepared basics or adventurous question mark meals, you're bound to find something that satisfies here.

The Last Hike

One final hike. That was the thought that flashed in my mind as soon as my eyes opened this morning. My friends get back tomorrow, I leave on Tuesday,  I will likely spend Monday packing; I knew today was my last chance to get lost in the Norwegian mountains. So an hour later with pets fed and watered and some coffee and oats for myself, I pulled on my hiking pants and laced up my boots and headed out the door. My goal was to seek out and climb the 607 meters of the mountain Bynuten. It was a hike recommended by my Kjerag guide, and described as demanding by my hiking book but promising "magnificent views".

I managed to find the trailhead, despite the misleading information provided by GoogleMaps, and began hiking at 11:20. The trail first cut through a farm before diving off into the woods. The majority of my ascent was just flat out awesome. The trail passed by multiple lakes, small rippling waterfalls, went up wooded hills, and back down to open valleys. I stepped through packed dirt, gnarled tree roots, and lots of mud. I climbed rock staircases that must have been built with giant trolls in mind. I spotted small yellow stripped caterpillars resting on pink flower buds, startled a flock of
sheep that ran through the trees at my approach like a mustang herd running from a lion, and birds flitted between trees singing as they went. The air was full of soft sun and a cool breeze, and not too long in I stripped off my light jacket only putting it back on later when the breeze morphed into a gusty wind. I passed one woman coming back down within minutes of starting out as well as a dad with his young daughter just walking through the farm, but once in the woods there was no one in sight. And at every second, each new step, I was stunned by the beauty of nature around me.

Then, 10 minutes from the summit the rain began to fall, but lightly and I thought the event would soon pass. By the time I'd finally climbed the last rock that brought me to the great block of stacked stone announcing my destination it was clear that the rain was there to stay. Still, even through the drops and clouds, I was able to look down on one of the most wonderful views I've ever seen. I paused long enough to take a couple pictures (sadly my camera phone doesn't do well with pictures in rain) and to dig into my backpack to pull out and don my actual raincoat (my jacket was moisture wicking but definitely not waterproof) before beginning my descent. I had the choice to go the way I came or to go the full loop of the trail. I picked the latter, wanting the blessing of not knowing what the mountain and rain had in store for me in that direction.

Slipping and sliding over wet open rock and stepping (or mistepping!) through mud, I slowed my pace to a careful crawl. The trail itself seemed to have become a small river, and it wasn't long before I'd become a sopping wet mess. I could feel water sloshing around in both boots. My pants, cold and clammy, clung to my legs in bitter hatred. My fingers were white, slightly swollen and refused to straighten fully. Rain drops clung to my bangs and my eyelashes. I was absolutely covered in mud. By all accounts I should have been miserable, but I wasn't, not even close. I was in heaven.

I was outside. I was hiking. I was deep in the woods on the side of a mountain. I was in Norway. I was exactly where I wanted to be. I was living a life I have dreamed of.  The weather had done nothing to dampen the incredible scenery around me, and each time I looked up from the trail my breath caught at the marvel of it all. I actually had to be careful not to get too excited. I had to remind myself to pay attention to where I was stepping because falling and hurting myself could turn things real bad real quick. 

There was only one point that my spirits flagged, and my exciting excursion turned to a doubtful misadventure. Bynutten has a sister, Selvikstatten her peak only slightly lower at 597 meters. Hikers have the option of extending their journey to include the loop to her summit; I had flirted with the possibility of doing so before the rain had begun falling and had quickly rejected that idea soon after. When I reached a part of the trail with markers directing me to Bynutten, Selvikstakken, and parking a cloud of doubt came over me. The direction to Bynutten was clear, but the directions of the other two were not and even when I pulled out my map I couldn't be 100% of the right direction. I knew I had to decide, that just standing there all day wasn't an option,  so picked the one that seemed most likely to be correct. At this point the wind decided to howled with a bit, and this combined with my lack of certainty as to where I was headed seemed to turn my wet skin ice cold, my steady legs weak with exhaustion, and my confidence in my ability to not end this hike in injury to plummet. A good thirty minutes or so went by before I reached the next trail marker that told me for certain I was not on my way up another mountain, a sight that gave me an instant rush of relief and jubilation.

The first/last part of the trail is really a packed gravel road traversing through a farm that slopes

steadily downward towards the parking lot. On my way up, many hours before, I had thought how nice this part of the trail would be coming back, but there is no way I could have imagined the intense utter relief I felt as I practically skipped my way back to the car. The rain had given me a brief intermission at this point and I looked around in every direction desperate to soak up as much of the beauty as possible. I finally couldn't resist any longer and stopped to pull out my phone for one last picture. As I pushed the button, heavy drops flashed down once more and I spent my final minutes in an impressive downpour. I didn't care though.

Finally, 5 1/2 hours after leaving it behind, I reached and unlocked the car. I threw my bag inside, and with only the briefest pause to strip off my drenched coat, dove in after it. Despite my clay like hands, I managed to insert the key into the ignition and bring it to life. I turned the heat on full blast, laying my fingers over the vents full of sweet gratitude for their blowing heat. A couple minutes later I turned my attention to a though that had finally become a reality - dry clothes. I tugged off my soaked garments and blissfully pulled on my new ones. I switched on the heated car seat (such a wonderful thing), pulled out my waterbottle for a long grateful sip, and then turned the steering wheel directing the tires out on to the road and toward home.

There is no doubt that Kjerag was, in addition to being the highlight of my time here, the favorite hike of my life. But todays hike with it's beauty, solitude, and three hours of rain might just be my second favorite. It will forever be one my most cherished memories.