Category Archives: Life in Norway

Sold!

Blog, In Darkness and In Light, Life in Norway, , , ,

Sunrise/sunset: 05:37/19:50 Daylength: 14hr13min

It still feels like a miracle. Just over a year ago, I was sitting in a hotel room, bidding on a house with trembling fingers. The house had been on the market for six months. I couldn’t really understand why it wasn’t selling. There were some aesthetic problems. The previous owner had painted one of the bedrooms black and lilac and covered one wall with mirror tiles and there were more screw holes in many of the walls than seemed ideal, but it seemed a nice house and it was positioned well, half way between Finnsnes, with its fast boat connections to Tromsø and Bardufoss, which boasts an airport.

Black and lilac walls with mirror tiles
Before – Black and lilac
After: Blue and grey

A couple of suggestions had been made by colleagues as to why it might not be selling. It is directly beside the main road was one. Though small, it had three bedrooms, but a fast road outside the door might mean children were not safe in the garden. The other observation was that the previous owner hadn’t done much to the house (mirror tiles aside). That comment was made with an attitude that improvement (or as a minimum, upkeep) of a house ought to be a priority for all, and of course, with the hard, hard winters, that is a lot more important here than in other, gentler parts of the world.

I already had plans to build a fence. John had learned how, so I would only have to pay for the materials. The fence was mainly for Triar, but in future, if I sold the house, it might also keep children safe. In my head there were two other immediate plans. Firstly, I wanted a bigger heat exchanger. The old one didn’t sound like it was functioning properly. Secondly, there was an air vent on the roof that was leaking. Those were the most pressing problems, I thought. The two worst bedrooms would also be decorated before we moved the furniture in, because that was easier than shuffling everything about. As well as the black and lilac room, there was one that was painted an aggressive pink colour.

Beyond that, if I was going to sell, it would be years into the future, I thought. There would be years to plant trees to damp the sound of passing cars and tidy up more generally.

But as regular readers will know, last winter was harder in many ways, than I ever could have predicted, and the decision was made to move back to Scotland. So then I was faced with having to sell the house a long time before I’d ever thought I would, and with not a lot of time to do it. I considered holding onto it and renting it out, but then, as I discovered last winter, if your roof falls in because you didn’t clear the snow, you might find your insurance doesn’t cover it. And if it was hard to sell while I was still living in it, how difficult might it be if it had been rented out for a while and not looked after?

So all that has been in my head over the past couple of months and I found myself driven to get it looking as good as I possibly could. Since contacting the estate agent, I have painted the ceiling in the hallway, painted the garage, painted all the white railings on the front and side of the house and (with Trude’s help) cleaned and stained the wooden deck outside the front door and the veranda. Add on a deep clean inside the house and a major declutter. I haven’t pushed myself that hard in many years, and as the day of the visning came, I could only hope it was enough.

In Norway, houses are normally sold by auction, often on the day after the visning. I didn’t ask until the last minute, but I was pleased to hear there were six interested parties who came to look at the house on the day. Still, it wasn’t a certainty anyone would bid.

I misunderstood the process somewhat. I thought that nobody could bid until midday the next day, so I was disconcerted when the estate agent called me at around nine in the evening on visning day, to say that the first bid was in. It was way too low and the date for taking over the house was the first of October. The agent seemed to think it was a good thing, but it was too late to discuss details. What she probably didn’t know, was that before I bought the house, there had only been one previous bid made, months earlier, and for the same amount I was being offered now. I had the idea in my head that the same thing might happen. First of October looked impossible as well. I had been in touch with three removal companies, all of whom had agreed to mid-to late October.

After a restless night, I slapped out e-mails to the removal companies, asking if there was any chance they could manage the earlier date. When I got to work though, Trude reassured me that a super-low starting bid was normal. I also came to understand was that the midday deadline was not for bidders, but for the sale. I could not agree to any bid before twelve. This is in line with a Norwegian law intended to make sure all who attend a visning have enough thinking time to consider whether they want to bid.

All was quiet until ten thirty the next morning. The bid that came in then was only a little higher, but what it did mean was that there was more than one party interested in buying. Almost immediately there was another bid and then another. Bid number four was a major turning point. It was for 1,8 million kroner – the same price I had paid a year earlier, and the price I had decided was the level at which I would definitely sell. The date on that one was first December, but all that would mean was that I wouldn’t be there personally for the handover: not a problem.

By now the agent was ringing me regularly. I told her first October was so difficult it might make a difference to which buyer I chose. When the phone pinged again, the date was my chosen date of first November. The estate agent was ringing the bidders as well as me, pushing them upwards and the bids were still coming in. 1,9 million… 2 million… And then a jump I hadn’t expected, right up to 2,1 million.

By this time several of my colleagues were sitting around the table, keeping me company. They’ve probably never seen me so grinning so broadly. Not only had I made back the money I had spent on the house during the past year, but I had probably covered the costs of buying and selling as well. The estate agent rang again to say she thought it would be the final bid, but really it was already way beyond anything I dared to hope for. It was also the first November bidder, so perfect date as well as price.

I have come down a bit since. There’s still a lot to do. I have to get rid of a lot of stuff. John’s things have to be separated from mine. The removal company is now arranged and they will do the packing, but that means we have to be very clear about what is to go and what isn’t. There’s lots of paperwork to be completed so that the importation of my furniture goes without a hitch and doesn’t cost me a fortune in import taxes. I have to sell the car and then get to the airport without it. I am working in the abattoir right up to the day before the keys are handed over, so it’s a logistical jigsaw, more complicated than any I’ve handled before. But it all looks so much more doable now. Selling the house was always going to be the biggest challenge.

Anyway, I had better go now. I have to fill in some UK government forms so that I don’t have to pay tax on my goods as they go into the UK. I also contacted a car dealership last night to see whether they would buy my car. I thought they’d make me an offer, but they’re asking how much I want, so now I have to go and work out how much it’s worth. Steps and steps and steps, but I know I will get there eventually.

And I’ll leave you with a couple more bad moose pictures. I love seeing them, just outside the garden, but they do like to hide behind the trees. Thanks for reading and I hope to see you next week!

Trees, Trees, Trees – A Whistlestop Journey through Sweden

Blog, Holiday, In Darkness and In Light, Life in Norway, , ,

Sunrise/sunset: 05:10/20:22 Daylength: 15hr12min

This week started with dropping Andrew off at his new school. He has been updating me as the week has gone by and my opinion of the Nordic idea of Folk High School (already high) has gone up again. He’s ostensibly there to study film, but he only does that for eight hours a week. In addition, he has also to choose another subject. His first three choices were surfing, a walking group and racket sports. He got his first choice, so now he will learn to surf. In addition, he had to choose a second subject for Fridays and an activity. He chose learning the ukulele on Fridays and walking as his activity. It’s clear the intention is to get the students away from their screens and out and about, as well as socialising.

Half way through the week, they also had to make signs for their bedroom doors and Andrew and his roommate won a prize for “Most creative” signs. I was interested to see that Andrew’s was a Scottish saltire flag with his birth date in one of the four sections, and his birth place and the two significant places he’s lived in Norway in the other three, with an image representing each place. It’s a simple design and very attractive, despite the fact that he isn’t a natural at drawing. He’s spent the past couple of years studying communication and media and his creativity still surprises me. I was worried about leaving him there – what mother isn’t, when her child leaves home, but it seems like the school works really hard to make sure everyone is involved.

Andrew and Triar

I also left Triar behind. In two months, I am going to have to take him to the UK. I think I’ve mentioned before that I have to take him on a ferry, as I can’t accompany him on a plane. Logistically, the hardest part of the journey appeared to be getting Triar from Finnsnes to Kristiansand. There are no trains this far north, the Hurtigruten boat leaves Finnsnes at four in the morning, and arrives in Bodø (where I could get a train to Oslo) at two in the morning the day after, which was an unattractive start to a journey that will take several days. Taking a plane from here to Stavanger, followed by a much shorter train transfer to the ferry at Kristiansand is a much easier option. I had tentatively asked Charlie whether he might like to look after Triar for a couple of months and initially he thought he might not manage. It’s quite a long time and he travels a lot, so I wasn’t that surprised. It was a lot to ask. But when he saw Triar again, and how quickly Triar settled into his flat, and crucially, after he found a colleague was keen to help when he was away, he changed his mind.

So when I set off to drive back, the car seemed very empty. I had been trying to decide which route I should take as well, and with Triar gone, driving up through Sweden was a possibility, so that is what I did.

Getting out of Norway was the hardest part. Despite the fact that I set off on Sunday, there were long queues around Oslo, including half an hour stationary in a tunnel, with increasing signs of a carbon monoxide headache. The Google Maps lady then told me there were long queues ahead through the city centre motorway and tantalisingly offered to take me on a route that would cut twenty one minutes off my travel time. It all went well, until I came to the road block. I did a U-turn, turned on my car’s navigation system, which is well and truly out of date, then tried to work out at each junction, which system was likely to give the best advice. I suspect it actually took longer than the traffic jam in the end and was probably more stressful, but I finally emerged from Oslo, then started looking for somewhere to stay. After a failed attempt to get into a hotel (lots of small places have no manned reception, and phone numbers to contact that go unanswered) I finally found a campsite with very comfortable cabins, and ended the day watching bits of Hunger Games on the TV.

On the second day, I crossed the border into Norway. There was a customs toll on the Norwegian side, but no sign of anyone monitoring anything. The road changed from grey asphalt to older looking red, but otherwise there was no great fanfare that I was now in a different country.

As I drove up though, it was interesting to compare the scenery with the Norwegian landscape we experienced on the way down. Here, there were no mountains and twisting roads, only miles and miles of trees with long straight highways, often with a 100km/h speed limit. Periodically there would be a break in the trees, with an expanse of water behind it, but otherwise there was little change as I covered the long miles from south to north.

A lake near Vilhelmina

On the second night, having found the campsite I was aiming for closed, I took my second choice, which was accommodation at the ski centre in Åsarna. This was something of a revelation. I chose to stay in the vandrarhem (hostel) rather than a cabin. It felt rather comforting – a bit like being back in halls of residence at university. My room was basic, with two single beds and a small table, but there was a comfortable kitchen and sitting area. Rather than eating out, I decided to buy something from the supermarket. I got something that I assume is traditionally Swedish. Kåldomar seemed to be some kind of minced meat wrapped in cabbage leaves. It came with mashed potato and gravy, so I thought I’d give it a whirl. I went outside briefly after I had eaten it, and realised as I came back in that I had achieved the dubious feat of making the entire vandrarhem smell of boiled cabbage!

As I drove north, the trees began to thin out and it started to look more like the kind of arctic tundra-like landscape, with sparser, stunted looking trees. There were reindeer too, one of which was a wonderful chocolate brown colour from the tip of its nose to its tidy little hooves. Sadly I didn’t get a photo of that one, but I did take a snap of one I came across later.

A reindeer in Lapland. What could be more appropriate?

It was autumn up here too. The leaves were beginning to turn and the forest floor was ripe with berries and fungi.

Another cabin and two more days driving took me to Kiruna, which my phone told me was only four hours and twelve minutes from home. I stayed in Malmfältens folkhögskola, which was, in effect, another hostel, though this time there was breakfast thrown in and I didn’t have to make my own bed. It was a lovely little room with a peaceful view of trees (what else?) from the window.

So now I am back in Norway and wishing I had longer to visit Sweden, but there it is. On Monday, the estate agent is coming, hopefully to allow some people to look at the house. I should probably ask her how much interest there has been, but I guess I’ll find out soon enough. If there are people interested, there will probably be bidding within a couple of days, so then I will find out if the house is going to sell easily, or not. If it does sell, everything will be a lot clearer, if it doesn’t, then we’ll have to do it all over again.

And so, I’d better go. I have work to do, getting the house ready. I started staining the terrace yesterday and repainting the white paint on the balustrades. I need to finish that off, then tackle clearing the garage and cleaning the windows. Lovely views are all very well, but it’s much better if people can get a clear view of them.

So goodbye for now. I will leave you with another picture of a tree and a link to the estate agent’s listing for my house. Have a good week.

https://www.finn.no/realestate/homes/ad.html?finnkode=316713475

Southbound

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I’m on my iPad, so this will mostly be photographs from our epic road trip from Fagerfjell to Sandnes. Andrew starts his film course tomorrow in Stavanger, so he, Triar and I took to the road to transport all his gear from one end of Norway to the other. It was officially a 28 hour trip, but I suspect it took a little longer in the end.

We set off in sunshine on Saturday afternoon. We were aiming for Fauske, which was just over six hours away. The road was winding, but we got to take a short break on the ferry from Skadeberget to Bognes.


Steep mountains fell precipitously into the deep waters of the fjord, but Triar seemed to be enjoying the fresh air as much as the view.


We set out quite late on day two, which was a mistake as I had optimistically booked an AirBnB in Hell, just north of Trondheim: an eight and a half hour journey. We passed out of the Polar Circle at around eleven. The picture at the top of the page shows the flags at the centre that marks the line.

By the time we arrived at the AirBnB I had booked, it was raining. It was a private cabin, rather than one on a campsite, but what I hadn’t noticed when I made the booking, was that the toilet was in an outhouse, and of the typical «earth» type – basically whatever you do falls through a hole into a kind of cellar, which at some point, some poor soul has to dig out!

Still, the cabin was very comfortable, and we entertained ourselves by watching Lucifer in Hell.

While I slept in one or the very comfortable beds, Andrew decided to venture outside, only to be greeted at the front door by a huge, friendly spider, which had spun its web across the entrance. Being a thoughtful young man, he kindly sent me a warning message in the hope that I would read it before I went out in the morning, which happily, I did.

We stopped in Trondheim for bubble tea, then clutching a bag of croissants, we headed back to the car. By the time we were back on the road it was raining heavily. It has been a hot and dreamy summer in the north of Norway, but wet in the east, to the point of bridges being washed away. We had originally planned to go via Oslo and Kristiansand because the roads that way are better, but as the windscreen wipers laboured, we decided we might be better to brave a few mountain passes than risk the flatlands on the coast. 

And so, we turned inland at Otta and headed along the 15 road, then the 55, which took us past Galdhøpiggen (the highest mountain in Norway at 2,469m) and past the glacier at Jotunheimen. It was a breathtaking road through a rocky pass, running alongside a rushing mountain river.

We hadn’t booked ahead, as I had been reluctant to commit to driving for too long, but as the road followed the contours of the high ground, there weren’t any campsites. And just as the road began to descend, Google Maps threw us a curveball. We were committed to going inland, but rather than finding a wider and easier road, Google Maps directed us up onto another road, which was even narrower and more primitive than the 55. It had a warning sign at the start which stated you couldn’t go that way with a vehicle that was over 10m long, and in addition, you needed a credit card to drive through. Having just looked it up on the map, it seems to be marked as «Tindevegen». Still, we were committed now, so with a grin, we turned onto it and drove onwards. It was just as isolated, and as the minutes ticket by, we were starting to wonder whether we were just going to have to stop and pitch the tent on the roadside.

The idea of a tent was not very enticing, and so we drove on and on. By the time we descended the steep switchbacks that led us down into the little town of Øvre Årdal, it was after six. We limped into the Utladalen campsite and, to my enormous relief, bagged the last cabin with shower and toilet.

So much for taking three easier days to end our journey. From Øvre Årdal to Stavanger was only seven and a half hours and we were rapidly tiring of basic cabins. We set off at a reasonable time and decided we would make a run for our final destination.

We stopped a couple of times, on seeing a waterfall first…

…and then I saw this irresistable lake with its reflected mountains and trees.

Happily, Charlie welcomed us with a reviving barbecue. The trip which I had expected to finish on Thursday was done by Tuesday evening. And for Triar, who had spent four patient days in the back of the car, the best reward was Charlie, who he hadn’t seen for more than a year. He has an amazing memory for faces and after being silent almost all the way, he saw Charlie through the window and let out a greeting yelp. He really is a very loving dog.

Last Things Over and Over

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Sunrise/sunset: 04:11/21:29 Daylength: 17hr17min

Things are going well. This week I have painted the last wall of the garage and made concrete for the second time. I am gradually filling a hole in the wall under the veranda, left open when the old air conditioning unit was moved. The house brochure still isn’t done, though I did get the survey report back. The surveyor didn’t find anything nasty, which is a relief, and he’s valued the house at more than I bought it for, which is brilliant. I’m looking forward to seeing the photos. I’ve contacted some removal companies as well, and done my first video survey. Keep on going, one foot in front of the other.

One of the pleasures of working at the abattoir is spending time with Trude. She was born and raised here and properly embraces the lifestyle, making the most of the wildness, living on the edge of the world. She owns and breeds hunting dogs and though she obviously loves hunting, she also works hard to do it ethically. She was recently involved in taking a survey of how many grouse there are in the area where they hunt, so that they know how many birds (if any) they can take this year. On Thursday, she told me that she was going away for the weekend, but that she couldn’t go until Friday as she was involved in judging dogs in a course where they were trained to be frightened of sheep. Picking berries and living close to the land are second nature.

I love listening to it all and it sounds wonderful. Part of the fascination for me, is catching a glimpse into a close knitted community, where the way of life is so different from my own. When I was much younger, I felt a similar pull when living on the edges of the farming community in south west Scotland. Back then, I wanted to be part of it. Now I just listen, enthralled and admiring, as I know it’s not for me, but hearing about it is like a tiny window into a different world.

And of course, in addition to all of that, Trude knows all about maintaining Norwegian houses. One of the challenges for me, in living here, has been that people tend to be very self sufficient. Getting people in to decorate or do work on your house costs so much that most people learn how to fix things early. There’s a whole lot of maintenance that needs to be done though. Wooden houses in an Arctic climate need to be looked after. There are also some short-cuts that make doing that work faster. I mentioned last week that I had cleaned and stained the decking and the steps up to the front door. It took me quite a long time, spraying on the cleaning fluid that loosens the old stain, scrubbing the wood with a brush, then washing it all off. It was physically hard going and my arms have developed semi-permanent aches and pains. Trude has been keeping track of all the work I’ve been doing on the house (I think she approves) and when I said that, though I wanted to finish the garage, I probably wasn’t going to get the veranda done before my holiday, to my surprise (and happiness) she offered to come round and give me a hand.

I expected she would come round and we would do the job together, but once we had applied the cleaning fluid (with mops on sticks, instead of spraying it on) she brought out her secret weapon, which was a brush attached to a pressure washer. To my bemusement, I was actually left just watching her as she cleaned my entire veranda in double quick time. If I was staying, I would definitely be investing in one of these!

As I go about my life though, I am constantly aware of the changes that are coming. The bank of wild flowers outside my house is in full bloom at the moment. I know, when they die, I won’t be seeing them again, or at least not on a daily basis as I go in and out. The season in the abattoir is almost upon us. I am on holiday now for two weeks. When I get back, Vaidotas and Ernestas, will have arrived and there will be seven Mattilsynet meat inspectors working every day, instead of three of us, working between three and four days each week. I love the life the season brings and the changing of the seasons of the year that goes along with it. By the time I leave in November, it will be cold again and I will probably have seen the first snow. And while it will be wonderful to go home, it is also going to be tough, tearing myself away.

Anyway, I had better go. When I said I was on holiday, what I’m actually about to do is take a road trip, taking Andrew down to his new school year in Stavanger. It will be Andrew’s last time in this house, probably. How odd to be leaving home, to have no home to come back to. I will build a new one in Scotland, hopefully, but obviously it won’t be the same. Before I leave him, I will probably try to buy him some plane tickets so he can come to me over Christmas. Planning and planning and planning. I’d better go and start packing the car. Have a good week all!

Keeping Track

Blog, In Darkness and In Light, Life in Norway, , , ,

Sunrise/sunset: 03:42/21:59 Daylength: 18hr16min

I had hoped to share my house sale brochure with you this week, but it hasn’t gone live yet. No word from the estate agent or the surveyor on what they think the house is worth either. Though I probably should have chased it up, it’s just another thing on my enormous list of things to do. I haven’t taken many photos this week, but I did send some to the estate agent: pictures taken from around the house during the year I have been here. If you read regularly, you will have seen them before, but I will scatter them through this post as a reminder of how beautiful it is.

This was taken shortly after moving in, before all the snow came

Things I have achieved this week include painting the third wall of the garage, getting the front door steps and decking around them stained, preparing the house for photographs and having the photographs taken and booking two ferries, to get me from Norway to Emden in Germany and from Amsterdam to Newcastle. I’ve also booked an AirBnB in Amsterdam for two nights and the woman who owns the house we will be staying in has supplied me with the name and address of a vet in Amsterdam. Though Triar has a pet passport and has had his rabies vaccination, he needs to be wormed by a veterinary surgeon between 24 and 56 hours before entering the UK. Doing it myself isn’t enough. I need a different vet and a signature. I haven’t rung the vet yet, nor have I made final arrangements on how to get down to Kristiansand, or all the transfers. Still, at least I have made a start, and the best news associated with that is that Anna has agreed to come over and make the trip with Triar and me. We would have probably managed alone, but it would have been a challenge every time I needed to buy food as there’s no way I would leave him tied up outside a shop and he almost certainly wouldn’t be allowed in most of them.

The whole process of selling the house is further complicated by the fact that I am on holiday at the end of next week and will be away for a fortnight. The estate agent said they normally try for a visning (open house session for potential buyers) a couple of weeks after the brochure goes live. John is coming back from his holiday the day before Andrew and I go away. I don’t want to have a visning when I’m absent, so it will have to wait until I’m back, but the idea of arriving straight back from being away, to get the house organised immediately is daunting. In effect, I have to try to get as much done as possible before I leave. So painting the fourth wall of the garage is non negotiable. It has to be done this week. If I experience a rush of energy from somewhere, I may get the veranda cleaned and stained, but that is a much bigger job, and one that isn’t started yet, so possibly best left for now. I’m having to accept that I’m not going to get everything done, so prioritising is the name of the game.

Polar night over a snow covered mountain scene. Taken from the garden.

Though the house is tidy, inside and out, the garage and the room beside it are in chaos. Some of it will go away with Andrew. When I said I am going on holiday next week, what I’m actually doing is driving him down to Stavanger, to his new folk high school, where he starts on 26th August. We have quite a lot of sports gear, such as skis and diving gear, and he will be taking some of that with him, which is good. Unfortunately, the garage and its attached storage room are also where we have been dumping everything as we gradually did the house and garden up. There is old wood from some horrible decking we removed and a large wooden toy van that was also in the garden. I looked into hiring a skip this week, but it seems the decking wood was impregnated with nasty chemicals and therefore can’t be put in normal waste. I’ve taken some of it to the dump in the car, but am considering how to get the rest of it away.

From inside the house, there are various shelves we have taken down and all the tools that have been used are scattered around. There is John’s shearing equipment and an old mattress from a bed that I need to throw away, which is blocking some other shelves. There’s also the air conditioning unit, that I had vaguely thought we might use in the garage store room, before I realised it had a heated floor.

My favourite shot of the aurora over the barn next door to the house.

When we moved in, the previous owner had left various things that matched stuff in the house, such as tiles and flooring. There was also a bunch of paint tins, a few of which contained viable paint (I have painted the garage without buying new paint, for example) but most of which I have been gradually taking to the dump as the paint has solidified long ago. I guess any of the decorating equipment that she left might be left as it still matches the things in the house, but it very much depends on the new owner. If they demand I remove everything (as is their right in Norway) then I will have to do it. Depending on when the house sells, doing so might be complicated.

Things I haven’t started yet include getting quotations from international removal companies. I need to get three and getting them is quite complicated. The companies require a fairly detailed list of what you want to take, as well as an address where they have to deliver it, which I can’t supply yet and probably won’t be able to do until I actually arrive in the UK. What I want to take is also up in the air. John will want some furniture (probably) as it makes sense for him to move into an unfurnished flat, but exactly which items isn’t certain. The estate agent wants me to leave the white goods, but I won’t know if the new owner will actually want them until we get to the point of selling. I guess I just arrange to go without them and we can dispose of them if necessary. That isn’t especially complicated, at least.

Sunset shot over the late winter snow. Taken from behind the garage.

At least I am looking forward to being on holiday next week, though it suddenly dawned on me properly yesterday that it’s not just a holiday, but is Andrew leaving home. It’s odd for him too, as he will leave and once he’s gone, the house will most likely be sold and he probably won’t ever return. All this feels very odd and still somewhat unreal at the moment.

One thing that past couple of weeks have brought home to me is how much I am going to miss the colleagues I have been working with for the past three years. I have been moving around my whole life. You’d think I would be used to it, but I guess most times I have moved, I have had family with me. This time it will be a complete break from everything and though I am going somewhere where there will be other family and friends, it is going to be hard to make that break.

Anyway, as planned, Andrew and I did go camping again this weekend. We had intended to go for two nights, but ended up doing only one, back in the same place as last week. As we drove back up, I was very much aware that I was driving through another farewell. Next time we go camping (if we do) it will be in Scotland. I will probably be here to see the start of the winter snow, but the short Arctic summer is already showing signs of coming to an end. There are going to be a whole lot of goodbyes and a lot of last times coming up. Next weekend’s blog might be delayed as there will be a lot to do, but I will try to record some of the journey so I can share it with you. Have a good week, all!

More breakfast toasties from yesterday.

Painting, Pets and Pizza

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Sunrise/sunset: 03:05/22:31 Daylength: 19hr31min

It feels like a long time since I wrote my last post. Events are whizzing by and I’m just trying to keep up.

Firstly then, the house. The estate agents have been helpful. After weeks of trying (unsuccessfully) to get hold of a plumber, the recommendation from them came up trumps and the plumbing is now (mostly) fixed. There’s an unpleasant aroma in the utility room, but the surveyor, who came on Thursday, located the problem. The drain in the floor should have some kind of cap on it and doesn’t. The plumber had already fitted a new u-bend and now will have to come back to fix the drain, but hopefully that will be it.

Fortunately, the process for selling the house seems to be coming in bite-sized chunks. We cleaned everything inside for the estate agent visit and she gave me various tips for making the house look good when the photographer comes. When I mentioned painting the garage, she said to paint the front first, as that would be in the photographs. The rest could be done later, she pointed out, so it’s now half done and looks a lot better than before. I need to retouch the white paint, but I’m pleased with it.

The surveyor came out on Thursday, so I had to fill in loads more paperwork. Norway brought in a lot of rules a couple of years ago about houseowners having to declare everything they know about faults and problems, as well as about all work that’s been done over time. Fortunately, I knew about the requirement to provide receipts and proof of work done, so I was more or less prepared for that aspect, but it was still a tortuous process.

Before he came, I wanted to get the mouse-brushes in place. I thought it would be a very minor job, but it was a little more complicated than I had expected. Houses in Norway are (mostly) constructed quite differently from the houses I grew up with in the UK. Mine has a small “creep cellar” underneath, walled with breeze blocks, which are covered with a thin layer of cement at the front, but are just painted at the back. There are wooden plugs in the low walls of the creep cellar which are more enough big enough to crawl through. You can’t access it at all from the house, but only from the garden, so when it’s decked with snow, that’s it for the winter. Above the creep cellar, the main walls are made of wood. I’d say the majority of the houses in Norway have the planks laid horizontally, but mine are vertical. There is an overhang with a gap between the wood and the breeze block wall and the mouse brushes, each of which is about a metre long, are usually inserted into that overhang.

Most of the instructions I’ve seen have been for houses with horizontal planks. The mouse brushes are just pushed lengthways up into the gap and that’s the job done. But when I tried to do that, it turned out the overhang on my house was too small, so that the bristles of the brush stuck out the bottom. On inspection, it turned out that, because of the upright planks, there were actually smaller holes that could each be blocked individually, but that meant we would have to cut the brushes into shorter lengths. None of the tools we had were working to cut the wire along the centre of the brushes, so we had to buy a new cutter. Anyway, in case that’s all as clear as mud, or you can’t visualise the brushes or the planks, I took some photos. Cutting the brush first, then looking up under the wall at the hole to be filled, then finally the brush being pushed into the hole.

We also had to pull out lots of furniture and all the white goods so that the surveyor could look behind them. I’m hoping he didn’t find anything too awful, other than the things I already knew about. He and the estate agent will decide between them how much they think I should ask for the house in the first instance.

Early next week, the photographer is coming out. Before she comes, we will need to clean again and there is a bit of “dressing” that I need to do. We have to take down the curtains in the living room and rearrange the furniture, both of which seem rather odd to me. The curtains are cosy and suit the room well, but we have to maximise the light, she told me. The furniture is perhaps more problematic. I forgot, when she said that we had to pull the sofas out into the middle of the room, that the backs of both of them are somewhat damaged. They’re leather sofas, generously given to me by a colleague, and I like them a lot, but having them close to the wall is covering a multitude of sins! I’ll have to pull them out today and have a look. A black marker pen might be my best friend!

One of John’s friends, Bowen, has been coming to cut our lawns once a week. My original plan was to buy the equipment to cut it myself – probably some kind of ride-on mower as it’s big. However, by the time summer came, I knew I was thinking of moving, so I didn’t want to invest in any more equipment. Bowen has been doing a great job and better still, he has now given our lovely guinea pigs a new home. That was one of my biggest concerns as I didn’t want to hand little Brownie and Millie over to strangers, but I know Bowen will take good care of them and he has children, who hopefully will love them lots.

Beyond the photographer, still seemingly a while away, will be the “visning”, when the house is opened up for an hour or two for people to come and look around it. By then, I will have to have the garage finished. In addition, I want to stain the doorsteps and the veranda. I started outside the front door last night, where there are some steps and a raised wooden area beside the driveway. Norwegian weather is hard on wooden verandas, as you can imagine, so I want to do it right. Before you stain the wood, you have to remove any old stain so the new can sink in. This involves spraying on some special cleaning fluid, then removing the stain. I wasn’t sure if there was any stain left at all on the platform. To me, it looked like old wood that had long been bleached, but after the cleaning fluid had been on for fifteen minutes, I noticed there were areas of wood that suddenly appeared to have stain on them.

I started to scrub, thinking I would remove that small area, only to find that my brush was revealing more and more of the original, honey-coloured wood. I don’t know how long it was since it was done, but I feel like I removed about ten years worth of ingrained dirt, revealing some much nicer wood underneath. I sent photos to Wivek, as I was worried that I would have to start again, now the dirt was gone, but she assured me it now looks as it ought to after the cleaning process. Buying my own house in Norway, even for only a year, has been an enormous learning curve. Anyway, front doorstep cleaned, much larger veranda still to go. I know I could just sell the house as it is, but it seems stupid not to have it looking as good as I can manage, before going ahead.

Anyway, with all the work on the house ongoing, it’s been hard to relax, so when Andrew asked me if we could go away for a night camping, I almost turned him down. I like camping, but it can be quite a faff, getting everything into the car and putting up the tent and so on. However, it’s his holiday and the last one before he leaves home and I wanted to spend some quality time with him, so on Friday night, we headed out onto Senja to find somewhere to spend the night.

We had hoped to have a spectacular dinner at Senja Roasters. I’ve often posted about them before but, to our disappointment, they seem to have stopped cooking and now have turned into a glorified coffee and cake cafe. The only savoury food on offer was quiche, which didn’t even come with salad. We were a bit sad, having driven all the way to Stonglandseidet in anticipation, but fortunately, I had spotted a cafe attached to a cabin and camp site along the way. We drove back, fully expecting a fairly typical Norwegian roadside food menu, with burgers and hot dogs, so we were very pleasantly surprised when we saw the menu board.

Andrew suggested we could share a reindeer pizza, so that is what we did. It was delicious!

We drove back down to Songlandseidet to camp. A good while back, I spent a whole day exploring that part of southern Senja with Thomas, looking for reindeer and I had noticed this place when I was there. It was windy and so camping in a field with plenty of shelter from trees was a good plan.

Though I had been unsure about setting out, once we were there, in beautiful, peaceful surroundings, I felt more relaxed than I have for weeks. When I’m in the house, I am constantly aware that there are lots of things that I need to get done.

Lying in the tent, with Triar snuggling beside me, I felt free of all that. We are now planning another trip for next weekend, so there might be another late blog.

On the way home yesterday, we decided to stop for breakfast at the same café to try the toasties. It was a lovely end to our night away. Anyway, bye for now. Hope you all have a good week.

The Beginning of the End

Blog, In Darkness and In Light, Life in Norway, , ,

Sunrise/sunset: 02:12/23:29 Daylength: 21hr17min

You know, it’s odd. For the past few weeks, it’s been difficult to write this blog because there was something I wasn’t telling you. Starting this is actually hard as well, but it has to be done because this week, I handed in my notice at Mattilsynet. I guess some regular readers will be surprised. As you know, I love my job here, so it has been a difficult decision to make, but I am moving back to Scotland.

This decision has its roots in a number of factors. The main one is that I want to be nearer to Mum and Dad. Last winter, round about Christmas time, my dad was not well. He was having trouble breathing and they rang 111 for advice, only to find that an ambulance had been sent. Dad didn’t go to hospital in the end, but the most difficult thing for me was that I didn’t hear about it until several days afterwards. When I asked my mum why, she told me that they hadn’t wanted to worry me. That was understandable, but frustrating. In Norway, there is a lot of flexibility over time off in emergencies. Had I known, I might have been able to fly home, although it probably wasn’t necessary in this case. But if it had been more serious, I have no doubt my boss would have allowed me to go.

But the not telling threw up all kinds of complications. If I did have to go home without much warning, it could take than twenty four hours to get there. In winter, if the weather was really bad or there were no flights, it could be much longer. And anyway… it also crossed my mind that the not telling wasn’t going only in one direction. A long time ago, in my first years at university, before the age of mobile phones and easy communication, my mum joked that she knew things were going well when she didn’t hear from me. When I was intensely homesick at the start, I called them every day. I spent many hours on that little-known payphone in the basement of the halls of residence. When my social life took off, sometimes there could be days and weeks when she couldn’t get hold of me. But the situation is reversed now. Knowing that my parents are physically out of reach, when things are going badly, I don’t ring them, because I don’t want to worry them. In this age of communication, we are failing to communicate.

But my parents aren’t the only factor. Anyone who has been through the last half year with me on this blog will know that last winter was just too much. And (final straw time) it would all have been bearable if Mr Abusive and Husleietvistutvalget (HTU) hadn’t done their worst. The (to me) incomprehensible decision taken by HTU, to believe him when he was exaggerating and actually lying, even though I pointed out some very obviously fraudulent behaviour, has made me feel differently about how well protected I am in Norway. I always thought that the system here would protect me and it didn’t. There’s no doubt their decision has been significant in the north of Norway losing someone who was performing a useful function.

So what happens now? I have three months notice to work, so I will be here through much of the busy season in the abattoir. And then after that, I have to get some of the contents of the house over to the UK, as well as Triar and myself. It is unexpectedly difficult, importing a dog into the UK. Given that pet passports have made quarantine largely a thing of the past, I thought he and I would just bob on a plane and would go together. But it seems that dogs entering the UK on planes have to go as cargo. You actually have to hand them over to a carrier who puts him on a plane you can’t travel on and they have to be met at the other end by someone else. From here it would be at least two flights and I can’t be at both ends. The idea of Triar, on his own, through two flights, and being met at the end with people he’s never met just seems unbearable. And so he and I will go together to the UK on trains and boats.

And where are we going? I am moving to Dumfries. Back in the nineties, I worked in both Stranraer and Castle Douglas, so the area is quite familiar. I have already been in contact with a friend who lives there and I know I have other friends who are not far away. And I keep looking things up and feeling excited about things that I would have taken for granted before. For example, Dumfries has a hospital and it has an accident and emergency department. It has always concerned me, living here, that the nearest hospital is a two hour drive away. There is a library in Dumfries as well. I mean, there are libraries here, of course, but they are full of books in Norwegian. I read to relax, and despite being fluent in Norwegian, reading anything still requires a fully switched on brain. It’s not the same.

And of course all those laws and instructions I have to read at work and all the reports I have to write… all of it is hard for me. I write in English with a fluency that has allowed me to have books published. I told one of my new colleagues that the very idea of doing it all in English instead is just amazing and she made a face, but she just has no idea. I guess I should add here, that the new job I will be doing is, on paper at least, almost the same job I was doing in Finnsnes when I arrived here. There will be welfare visits on farms and monitoring and dealing with any outbreaks of notifiable diseases. As I said at the start, I love my job. I have long thought I would love it even more if I could only do it in English, so now I’m going to give it a try.

So here I am. The house is being prepared for sale. Selling after only a year isn’t necessarily going to be plain sailing. I bought it for less than the asking price because it wasn’t selling. I had really thought I would be here for years and years and could sort out all kinds of things and grow bushes to hide the sound of the cars passing on the road nearby, but it hasn’t worked out that way.

So now, I am preparing everything, and just hoping someone likes it enough. We’ve done a lot of work in the last year, building a fence, fixing the hole in the roof and so on. The estate agent put me in touch with a plumber, so now that job has been done at least. But other faults have cropped up. We discovered a cracked plank on the edge of the roof a couple of weeks back when the gutters were being checked. I got a quotation, thinking I could fix it, but it’s too expensive. And having done that, I will have to let the surveyor know. If I know about a fault, it’s fraudulent not to declare it. I just have to hope that the surveyor doesn’t hit me too hard. And there are other things that weren’t checked because of the snow. He’s coming out on Wednesday, so once he’s been, I will have a better idea of the value of the house.

So a large chunk of this weekend will probably be taken up painting the garage. I have also bought mouse brushes to put in the gap underneath the wood on the sides of the house. I will try to take pictures to explain that for next week. The day after I put everything in motion, I had to finish painting the ceiling in the hall. We took down a wooden partition and it had left a mess and I had been putting it off for weeks, but now it’s done and it looks great. I don’t know if you have watched Dexter, but I really felt like I was in Dexter territory once I had the hallway prepared!

And after the garage is painted and the mouse brushes are in place, there’s just the front steps and the veranda to clean and stain. At least, if I buy a house in Scotland, I know how to do a lot more DIY than I used to!

Outdoors, it’s still very beautiful. Here are some photos from the last week.

And finally, for the foodies amongst you, John was on holiday in Paris for a few days. Obviously he’s becoming a chip off the old block, because the only photo he’s sent, as evidence that he was having a good time, was of some pastries from a lovely bakery they found for breakfast. So here you go fellow foodies. Feast your eyes on this.

See you next week!

Colour, Light and Sound

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Sunrise/sunset: Up all day.

We are into the last few days of the midnight sun. Andrew is away at the moment and John is about to go on holiday for four weeks, as are many others who work at the abattoir. Next week the abattoir will be closed, so Friday had a real end of term feeling. So much so that I almost forgot that I don’t have holiday until John comes back.

The reality is that I’m going to have a few days here on my own. It feels rather odd: a taste of things to come I think. I don’t know how I feel about living alone again after so many years of having family with me. Sometimes I think it will be great to be able to do what I want, but I know I am going to miss them. Moving on in life can be difficult. I don’t often talk about my marriage on here, but though I know leaving was the right thing to do, the part of my life once all the children have left is much more of a blank canvas than it would have been if I was still in a relationship with a committed partner.

Andrew is going to Folk High School down in the south of Norway, and after giving it a good deal of consideration, I’m going to drive him down. So in four week’s time, when my own holiday actually arrives, I will be taking a major road trip. We may take Triar with us. I’m not sure, as yet. A lot of things are still up in the air at the moment.

With buying the house and all that’s been happening through the winter, we haven’t been out and about nearly as much as I would have liked, but last Saturday, John and I decided we were going to have a day out. We drove down to Andørja, which is an island that can be reached by a bridge from Senja. Had we driven further, through the tunnel that links to Rolla island, we could have taken a ferry to Harstad, but that might be a trip for another day. For now, John and I just went to see the mountains of Andørja and though they were lost in the clouds, because it wasn’t a picture perfect sunny day, they were still spectacular: rocky mountains that fall steeply into the fjord.

The bridge to the island is somewhat brutalist, being made of concrete with no additional supportive structures or suspension. It is spectacularly high though, to allow ships to pass underneath it. Here is a photo, taken from a distance.

And here’s John, looking good in amongst all that scenery!

And a random shot of a tree stump, that I just liked the look of!

On the way back, we went to Patricia’s Gatekjøkken for a delicious burger.

I am not very good at checking Facebook, so when I went on it on Thursday evening, I was surprised to see an invitation to a blues concert from my colleague Kaj. Kaj has been working with me a lot at the abattoir lately and is a great source of information, both about how things function at work and about Norway and Norwegian life in general. I knew that he played drums in a band, so I decided I would ask him about it the next day. I thought though, in general, that it would be lovely to get out for an evening. So I was very pleased to discover, when I spoke to Kaj at work on Friday, that he would indeed be playing. There were three bands performing and Kaj’s was up second.

The venue was intriguing. The concert was at Moen Kulturlåve, which I had never heard of. It’s actually a barn, where there can be cattle on the ground floor, though I don’t know whether they would be outside at this time of year. Kaj told me that the farmer has assured him that the cows seem to milk better after there’s been a concert, which is intriguing, if true. Certainly, cattle do sometimes seem to like having a radio playing when they are inside, so who knows?

Anyway, John and I drove over and bought tickets on the door and I’m very glad we did. Certainly it’s a very different venue from any I’ve ever been in and there was a wonderful atmosphere, even before the band arrived.

John and I had a couple of beers. Mine was alcohol free as I had to drive, but it felt great to be out doing something so very different.

And here is Kaj’s band, who were fantastic. I don’t know how long the concert went on, as John and I left as it was approaching midnight, but it was a brilliant night out for both of us.

And I will leave you with a few flower pictures, because there is so much colour in the world at the moment and it’s an amazing contrast after so many months of snow and ice. Have a good week all and thank you for reading.

Perspective

Blog, In Darkness and In Light, Life in Norway, , ,

Sunrise/sunset: Up all day.

I thought I’d start this week with a dog level view of the world. This isn’t exactly what Triar would see, because dogs don’t see red, so his world is probably toned in yellow and blue, but at least I got down to his level.

He spends a lot of time running through all those plants at the moment, which must make a change from sinking into deep snow!

When I was growing up, the world I knew was very much split in terms of east and west. There were huge chunks of Europe cut off from each other by the so-called Iron Curtain. Of course that’s a western metaphor, or at least I assume it is. I don’t know how we were regarded by those living within the Soviet Union (perhaps that’s a question for next week!) but I know that I was told that those living there had it a lot harder than us, partly because of a lack of goods and partly because there was an air of suspicion hanging over everyone and a risk of awful things happening if you were found to be in any way less than supportive of the regime in power.

Back in the south of Norway, one of my best friends had grown up in East Berlin. She told me that though there was a poorer selection of food and much less choice, there were things to value as well. Education for all was free at all levels, and everyone, whatever their job, could educate themselves to learn to do it better. And those jobs, though they might not pay brilliantly, were very secure and everyone had a job. There were free sports available as well. In some ways, life was less precarious and safer, from her perspective and my friend obviously valued that feeling of safety over the greater selection of goods available to those of us on the other side.

But I spent some time talking to Konstantin about his life within a very different part of the Soviet Union, living in Latvia. His story was very different and for him, the air of suspicion and the risk of awful things happening was very much more to the fore. Though he was born and grew up in Latvia, his family were Russian. Even back then, he says, there was huge tension between those who spoke Latvian and those who spoke Russian. He compared it to the tensions between the Sami people and modern Norwegians, though not as it is now, in Norway, but as it probably was thirty years ago.

He went to university in Moscow and while he was there, there was a war in Chechnya and a friend of his from that area was simply told one day that his family back home had been entirely wiped out and there was no point in coming back.

And now, with things becoming ever more unsettled, life back in Latvia for the families regarded as Russian (who may have never been to Russia) has become desperately difficult again. He tells me that some of the Russian speakers are now being forced to take exams in the Latvian language and that, if they fail, there is a thread to deport them to Russia. I asked him whether it was like the language tests in Norway for those wanting citizenship. There is a language requirement here, but those over 67 are not required to pass. That isn’t the same in Latvia, he told me. There are no exemptions, and of course those who have lived all their life there and are now old, are therefore the most likely to be living under this awful threat. Many of them don’t have passports and are not eligible to get one, a situation that seems unutterably awful.

Sometimes at the moment, the world seems very unstable to me, in comparison with how it was when I was growing up, but speaking to Konstantin brings it home to me that stability perhaps isn’t some kind of norm that we can expect. He also said that, given that kind of instability, there were a lot of people who might have been civilised in different circumstances, but were made worse by the hardships and would grab any opportunity that came, even if that meant killing someone. No wonder he has found such value living here in Norway, though he says, even now, he has to temper what he writes on Facebook as the authorities back home still watch out for anyone posting negative things and he could find himself summoned by police back there.

I am sorry that this week’s entry is rather bleak, but I am glad that those from the former Soviet Union are, at least for now, able to travel and I can meet them and try to understand better how it felt to be on the other side of that “curtain”. Though I grew up to the background of the Cold War, it was mostly a distant threat, with occasional crescendos of concern when faced with leaflets and information about what to do in the event of nuclear bombs dropping.

And I am also gradually finding out that Konstantin, who keeps a lot of things running in the abattoir, has an interesting history as a veterinary surgeon. He was obviously quite high up in the ranks back home, but values his current position with more limited levels of responsibility. He obviously finds a lot of peace in Norway, fishing and learning about geology. I hope that, in time, his position will be stabilised further.

Anyway, I have to go now and buy some fence posts and collect the long brushes to insert into the gap under the wooden walls of my house to stop all the mice in the region invading my loft next winter. I will leave you with some pictures of the incredible burst of summer as experienced in the far north under the twenty four hour sunlight. Have a good week!

Stinky Dog!

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Sunrise/sunset: Up all day.

I’ve been unwell and mostly at home for the past two weeks, so there isn’t much to write. I’m definitely on the mend now though.

I still haven’t managed to get a plumber out and now they are all going on holiday. It was similar in parts of Scotland when I was growing up. There were “trades holidays” when almost everyone involved in building work of any kind took time off and it became almost impossible to get anyone out. At least it’s for a set period, though here it’s four weeks, rather than two. I spoke to someone on Thursday who has placed me on a waiting list and said they will call when they get back. He seemed relatively reliable, so fingers crossed.

John’s friend Bowen has been coming round to cut the lawn. That is a huge boon as he has a sit on lawn mower and the garden is a bit too big to easily cut with a normal mower. When I moved in, the grass at the back of the house hadn’t been cut for a long time. John strimmed it before winter came, but now I’m hoping Bowen can get it back in shape. Now there’s a fence and a definite line between the cut lawn and the wild growth outside!

Unfortunately the fence is not animal proof yet. This means that I cannot, yet, let Triar run free in the garden. It also means that the beautiful foxes we see now and then can poo wherever they like. Triar has an enormous love for fox poo and delights in rolling in it whenever possible. The ecstasy on his face is quite a sight to behold. Not so much his face when he’s in the shower afterwards, but he does have a very compelling sad face when he’s all wet afterwards. Is it worth it? I guess it must be!

We have twenty four hour daylight at the moment. It’s quite difficult when you wake up and the sun is shining around the blind and you really have no idea whether it’s one a.m. or four or eight. Everything is now growing. The contrast with winter is incredible.

Anyway, as you can probably tell, I don’t have much to say. Normal service will (hopefully) resume next week. Take care!