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The fire that made a pearl

Category: Ramblings | Posted: Mon Nov 12, 2007 8:55 am

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Imagine lying in your bed at two A.M. It's January, and it's cold outside. Suddenly you are woken by the tolling of the bells. There's a fire to the west, there's a storm on and you had better pack up and flee! What to bring... And with what to bring it! Qickly the hand cart is packed up, your old, infirm aunt is put in there along with what valuables and necessities you have time to pack, and you start walking westward with thousands of other refugees. Turning back, you can see the red of the flames and hear the roar as they devour the eastern part of your home town. Will the fire brigade manage to stop this?



The only sounds heard are the roaring from behind, the howling of the wind and the slushy sounds from thousands of suddenly homeless souls that trudge silently along, their faces shocked and panicked, eyes staring stiffly ahead. Yes, it is a very silent exodus. The reality is too horrifying to talk about just yet.

But there is help. The first houses on the outskirt of the town are already filled up, but you're told to keep walking. Further along others are waiting to take you in, or help you along if that's what must be done. Finally you get welcomed in by a friendly farmer who just cleared a space in his barn. Your aunt is brought inside, there is soup, and you make yourself as comfortable as you can, all the time fretting and worrying about your home.

After more than 20 hours the fire was under control, but not much was left. 850 buildings were gone, and about 230 were left inside the town border. These were not all homes but also barns, storage houses and such. More than 10.000 people were homeless, but only one life had been lost.

Many Norwegian papers printed the story of the fire this Saturday 23d of January 1904. They had received telegrams about the fire, and knew help was needed. The Chief of the fire brigade, having successfully gotten the flames under control, went to send a telegram report to the government late Saturday evening. While sitting in the telegraph office a message ticked in from Kaiser Wilhelm II of Germany. He had heard about the terrible fire, and was already loading food, clothes, medicines and other aid onto ships in Hamburg and Bremerhafen.

Help started coming in early Sunday morning, and three days after the fire, the Kaiser's ships arrived. Mrs. Sarah Bernard held a matiné in Paris to the aid of the fire victims. Money were sent from all over the world, for example from Chicago USA, Leith in Scotland, Rio de Janeiro, and even from Africa.

The fire over with, and the cleaning-up done, one would have to rebuild. This time, no wood! The town would be built in stone. And the year being what it was, all architects flocking to Ålesund brought with them a new way to build. The Art Nouveau or Jugend style. And since town planning was rather new, all houses were built differently, according to the taste and money of the owners and the quirks of the architects.



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Lawn - what lawn?

Category: Garden | Posted: Fri Nov 09, 2007 8:25 am

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When we bought our home, it was surrounded by lawn. Yep, all four sides of it. But "lawn" might not be the right word... The back looked more or less like a collection of various moss. The east side and front seemed to be humps or dumps with grass and more moss. The bit to the west was actually rather nice, but very big.

We brought a battery powered lawn mower with us in the car. That was our first piece of "furniture" - everything else arrived later that day. The first year we spent redecorating the interior and mowing the lawn.

The next year we decided we did not want all that grass around. So we started transforming the lawns into something we didn't have to mow.

The back is now covered with stone, two raised beds and a messy under-construction-zone.

The east and south bit is an acid soil bed with hostas, lilies, trilliums, rhododendron, heathers and what-not. It looks rather nice.

To the west, we're still working on how to reduce the amount of flat greenery. We've made three flower borders, half a hosta walk, some steps that we call a donkey stair case and a sand box for the girls.

Now, why do we want rid of the lawn? Well, the mower's battery got poorer each year, so we had to decrease lawn size in order to get everything mowed in one charge. Then we've got this unstable weather. Mowing wet lawn is a patience-trying experience, and having to do that all summer is really not much fun.

In addition to that, there's moss. Some patches were all moss and no grass, and after having watched the neighbour spending a week removing moss, redressing lawn and tidying up, just to have a nice lawn for only two years, we realized that either we kept the moss or got rid of more lawn.

And to top things off, we're getting short of border space. A fact I believe many Stewbees can relate to.

We'll keep some lawn of course. It's nice to walk barefoot on the grass. But the size will be no more than a tennis court, that will have to do.

This blog entry has been viewed 218 times

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Cabins and such

Category: Ramblings | Posted: Thu Nov 08, 2007 9:21 am

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Most Norwegians have to have a cabin, somewhere primitive out of the way to retreat and reacharge during the week-ends, preferably in a mountain somewhere. Well, that was propably the general idea, but this is not how it works anymore.

We've got small cabins up in the mountains and down by the fjords, but they are disappearing or falling into disuse fast. People want holiday homes, with all the luxuries and comfort of their home, or even better.

Some years back, cabin owners would load up their cars with everything needed and set out to brave bad roads or no roads to be able to spend some time with no electricity, outside toilet, wash basins and manual labour, and not a neighbour in sight. The parents had their own bed room, but everybody else would sleep in the only other room available, the living room. In winter the place would be getting warm just about when it was time to go home. The car was parked some way off, but the going would be easy in winter because of the skis. Without them you wouldn't be able to get there.

The goal of the trip would be to ski or walk, enjoying the peace and quiet, and the scenery.

Now they want to drive to a pre-heated place with a garage, jacuzzi, sattelite dish, a shop close by, and even your next-door-neighbour next door. The place is big enough to accomodate the owner's family and a couple of visiting families, and might even have a guest house, just in case the place gets cramped. The scenery is exchanged for a view of lots of cabins looking very much like your own. As for the peace and quiet – well, there's a night club a couple of blocks down, and the after-ski taverna by the bottom of the slope is just an easy stroll away.

Some hard-core cabin owners refuse to give in totally, but with the children bending their ears about not being able to use their laptops or video games during the week-ends, they give in and install solar panels and running water for starters.

I'm not one to complain about progress, but I do feel we lost something along the way. And I don't even own a cabin!

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I'm terribly excited

Category: Ramblings | Posted: Tue Nov 06, 2007 5:00 pm

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Yesterday I was told I'm to be a Granny again around May 22d. I'm really looking forward to a new baby to cuddle, but it's early days yet. Only 11 weeks. I saw the ultrasound pictures today, the tiny thing is nearly 4 cm long. My little finger is longer.

The soon-to-be big sister was ecstatic when told. No wonder! She's been sneaking up to prams to admire babies for years, and have told the proud parents how she longs for a sibling.

Her parents tried to make her understand what she'll be to the new baby, and they hinted and coaxed her to say it herself. "When the baby comes, what does that make you then? What will you be?" She was really thinking hard, then suddenly her face lit up in a big, wide grin and answered: "I'll be HAPPY!"

She refused to attend kinder garten today, because she wanted to stay at home with mommy and the tummy. Yes, she said that. In Norwegian, of course. I'm predicting a very long, impatient wait for her.

Me, I've just ordered some baby alpacca yarn. I want to knit a blanket.

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The cost of living

Category: Ramblings | Posted: Mon Nov 05, 2007 10:08 am

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I've tired of all the talk about higher wages, higher petrol prices, unnaturally high house prices, the very low prices on unhealthy food, the furniture people buy one year and throw away the next, and all the time complaining about the cost of living.

In my opinion these people know the price of everything, but the value of nothing.

How much is a tree worth? You buy it, care for it, watch it bloom and grow, and the pleasure it gives is worth far more than the money spent.

How much does a friendship cost? You invest in your friend with thoughts, actions, heart and time. You have to risk being vulnerable and open your heart to him. You risk being hurt from time to time. Sometimes so hurt that you will always carry a scar.

I can probably never understand why people work so hard to appear successful, with the right neighbourhood, clothes and cars. I do understand that the pleasure it gives them is very great, otherwise they would not do it. Each to his own. But my mind is different. I value the little things in life, the ones that might cost time and work to achieve, but not much money. The energy spent in my garden generates more energy when I see how things thrive. The warmth I give my friends I get in return when I need it. The animals give me strength to get through the days just by being their furry selves. All my surplus is given to my family, and I get a jump start when the girls hug me before going to school.

I did try to be conventional. I had a carreer and lived the life everybody expected me to. But instead of getting a broken back, I got a broken mind. If I had listened to myself, cut down on the work time, spent more time outdoors... If-if-if. Well, reality gave me a bang on the head and I had no choice but to listen. Fortunately I was young enough to make an about-turn and literally stick my finger in the dirt. So now I aim to be myself, which is awfully hard work. I lost much of me along the way, and I'm still picking up the pieces. I've got a prescription for fresh air, exercise and rest, which suits me fine! And perhaps in a couple of years' time I'll have found all of me.

Last edited: Mon Nov 05, 2007 10:09 am

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Old story

Category: Ramblings | Posted: Sun Nov 04, 2007 7:11 pm

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We've got lots of written stories from when the vikings were still roaming the seas. The man who did most of the work, Snorre Sturlasson (1178-1241), was from Iceland. He started writing down stories that had been orally handed down from about 900 onwards, so we're not certain of his facts although his time line is more or less correct. What we do know, is that all the stories are shorn of embellishment, crisp and to the point. I'll give you an example.

In Flatoyrboka we find this story: «A herdsman stood resting, his head hanging. Torgeir Håvarsson struck him down with his sword. When asked why, he said: «He stood in a good position for a stroke.» His father deemed it an ill deed, but his mother thought he had the makings of a great king.»

Not exactly your normal bed time story.

The people in Snorre's stories are defined by what they do and how they act. We do not know how they think. Their spoken words are few and to the point. Of course it's mostly about men. The women are just accessories and rarely act. And the winning party is very honest and well-behaved, while the losers are dirty, sneaky characters.

Snorre himself used other peoples' work as sources. There were monasteries in Scandinavia and the monks were busy writing down the stories. They, of course, wrote it the way the Church wanted the story to be told. And Snorre probably twisted it a little too.

Also, in the story of Harald Fairhair, we sense the influence from «Tristan and Isolde», the Celtic love story. I can't bring myself to believe that Harald decided to gather all of Norway under one king just because he wanted to marry a beautiful girl. Marriages at the time were not from love but from what would be convenient to your family.

The stories also tell about lots of comings and goings from east to west, north and south, and we come to realize that the people of the middle ages actually had quite a big play ground.

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Some hobby

Category: Ramblings | Posted: Fri Nov 02, 2007 9:03 am

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Norwegians are big about finding their roots. Almost every family has a hobby geneaologist digging about in old books and surfing the net to find as complete a family tree as one can. Why? I don't know, but it's fun.

Even though many really, really want to, it's hard to find lines dating further back than the 1600s. Before then, church books were poorly kept, and after that very many protocols have been lost along the way.

The State's archives are a treasure trove because they have managed to conserve the court protocols from the 1600s onwards. We didn't have a court in every town, and people often had to travel very far to get justice done. Property sales were also duly recorded. Of course these protocols won't include all kinds of facts, but one might find some nice tidbits.

Up until early 1900 people changed their surname if they moved from one place to another. It was common practice to use your home place's name as surname, a fact which can really make a geneaologist confused. The townies were an exception. They took their father's Christian name and added -sen which means son. As if that would make it any easier to find your ancestors.

Norway only had 440 000 people in 1665, and in 1822 we were one million, so the task of finding ones' kin should really not be too difficult providing someone with foresight already did the legwork and published a book about the small community where some of your relatives lived. But did they get their facts right? With people getting sick, dying in child birth, getting lost at sea or going away to war, re-marrying was a wide-spread practice. One man might have had three or four wives, and which one is the right one to record? And a newly widowed pregnant woman remarries, but who is the father of the child? Oops, somebody forgot to name her late husband.

The result of a several years-long search might be that one thread ends up around 1600, while another one stops in the early 1800s. One finds small holders, fishermen, traders, murderers and men of worth and status. They come from all over the country, even Sweden or Denmark. Your next-door neighbour might actually be a cousin 11 times removed. Nothing much is said about the women, of course, unless she did something extremely special. Maybe you've managed to pick up some useful knowledge along the way too.

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The Younger Sibling Syndrome

Category: Ramblings | Posted: Thu Nov 01, 2007 10:51 am

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Since Norway had been under both Danish and Swedish rule, we felt we had nothing much to be proud of. True, the national romantics of the 19th century made a wave of national feeling, but it didn't last. We had no world renowned painters, poets or scientists, and not a single noteworthy building. We had stone, wood and water.

When trying to find out what to do next, we looked to Sweden, Denmark, Germany and England, but when we tried to emulate them we did not succeed. Then foreigners started to notice our mountains and fjords. The first mountaineers to climb our highest peaks were English. The first fjord tourist was Kaiser Wilhelm II of Germany. English and Scottish nobility discovered that our rivers were teeming with salmon. The term «Salmon Lord» was established.

The Norwegians shook their head, thinking foreigners slightly mad for spending so much money and energy just to get closer to the scenery. And we kept looking for guidelines from Sweden and Denmark.

Then there was oil. American drillers and oil workers came, bringing their families with them. Several other Europeans found work here, and they looked around and exclaimed: «How beautiful! Oh, how quaint! This is very special!» And the Norwegian blushed, nodded and said, «Well, we've known that all along.»

And finally we lifted our eyes from our boots and started to grow up.

When we discovered that we could actually excel in something, our common inferiority complex started to disappear. We have the painter Edvard Munch. We have Sonia Henie, an ice skating star who became a movie star. We have great ski jumpers and cross country skiers, and even soccer pros. The Iraqui soccer team just hired a Norwegian trainer. And we have diplomats touring the globe for UN. It seems that no peace mission is complete without a Norwegian, probably because we're so small and harmless that we intimidate no-one.

Our stone, wood and water gives a good income now, and we've got sites on the UNESCO World Heritage List. Hopefully we won't end up being intolerably proud of ourselves.

This blog entry has been viewed 171 times

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Making a living

Category: Ramblings | Posted: Wed Oct 31, 2007 4:08 pm

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With our very long coast line, Norwegians have always depended on the sea. We've found food there and used it for transport. We still do. Every small, inhabited place along the coast have sad stories to tell about all the people going out fishing and never returning. Often all men from one family perished, leaving their women and children behind.

The smallholder/fisherman existed until the mid-sixties, when industry finally spread out, giving people a chance to earn a living without risking their lives all the time. My grandparents were the proud owners of a rather big fishing boat, and had a couple of cows, a pig and some sheep that my grandmother tended while my grandfather was away. I'm able to remember their boat, their last pig and their sheep, so it's not too long ago. But now, this breed is all but extinct.

Further inland there were bigger farms and better climate, so farming was the main occupation. Farmers still grow wheat and such as their main livelihood, although most farm in addition to a full-time job. The full-time farmer is nearly gone. It's difficult to support a family on a Norwegian farm's income these days.

The towns had all kinds of occupations of course, to cater to the factory workers. Ours are no different from any other European towns, except they're much smaller.

Norwegians have always made boats, and that is a big industry in my part of the country. All the small ship wharfs are swallowed up by the big ones like Rolls-Royce, and they employ thousands of people. In one small valley the art of making wooden boats still lives on. Nice viking ship replicas are made there.

Now, some boring numbers:

35% of the population is working within higher education or are academics.
32% are in sales or service businesses.
19% are drivers, carpenters, masons and such.
And barely 3% are farmers or fishermen.
The ones missing are a bit here and a bit there.


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Where my Halloween costume went

Category: Pets and other animals | Posted: Tue Oct 30, 2007 5:54 pm

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Our riding club had a small do with dressage and jumping last spring, and I wanted to participate. But the nerves I had! So I thought up a good idea that would make me feel OK and give the spectators a laugh. I found my carrot/pumpkin costume and started in that.

As you can imagine, the judges put me on last place, deeming me a danger to both myself and others, but I did it, which was the main goal. I even got an extra rosette for being me. After a day at the stables my costume was beyond salvation, and I've never gotten round to making a new one.

This is what it looked like:





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