Island hopping in Oslo, vibrant sunsets and a happy country

27/3 - How does one describe Oslo and the country of Norway?

According to the World Happiness Report, Norway replaced Denmark at the top of the list this year, closely followed by Iceland and Switzerland. Some of the things that made these Scandinavians so happy were their caring, freedom, generosity, honesty, income, health and good governance.

It came across as a hugely progressive, futuristic city. Downtown is designed around providing footpaths for people. Vehicle and foot traffic have been separated to some extent, as the highways are a snaking system of curvy and smooth underground tunnels.

On and off ramps are spiraling underground tunnels, like an adventure ride at a theme park. Roads entering the city are subjected to an electronic toll and the air feels and tastes fresh and clear because of so many totally-electric Tesla-brand cars (a machine that sells for around 100k USD) using the streets. If someone owns an electric car, they're given free charging and parking within the city. 

Compared to other cities, Oslo isn't huge; it's a little bigger than Sacramento. But its skyline features the 1952 Olympic ski jump which overlooks the city, and steeper-than-they-look mountains which surround the city.

Blond and blue-eyed locals seem to smile more here, despite the fact Oslo is one of the world's most expensive cities. According to The Telegraph newspaper, it comes in as the 11th most expensive city in the world; It was No. 1 in 2014. A half pint of beer from a local brewery costs about $10 USD. The currency is the Norwegian Kroner, and the exchange rate is about nine Kroner to one dollar.

It's so expensive because there are high taxes for many things. For example, you pay tax when taking a taxi, about $10 USD, and that's just to get in the cab. The people who earn the most money are taxed roughly 50 percent. Speeding tickets, given out when cameras on the highhway catch a driver going 10 kph over the limit, are steep and harsh, around $1,000 USD.

Because of the high taxes, Norwegians are known to cross into Sweden, which is about an hour away from Oslo, to buy in bulk because the prices are much lower. There is a large shopping center about 10 minutes across the border into Sweden, and one can see Norwegians load up large shopping carts with multiples of everything, including sugary drinks and candy.

Besides a handful of newer skyscrapers and the new opera house, Oslo is not an architecturally stunning metropolis. But what it lacks in terms of a skyline, it makes up for in practicality and stunning natural beauty. 

It may just be a case of the grass is greener on the other side, but sunsets here seem to be shockingly vibrant. It's like Mother Nature approves of Oslo so much that she smiles each night and gently caresses the city and surrounding mountains with strokes of yellow, orange, red, pink and purple. People, no matter where they come from, stand transfixed by the nightly spectacle.

So, I sit here on the island of Hovedøya, by myself, with a perfect view of the city and surrounding islands. It was just a six-minute ferry ride, but I have successfully found solitude within a capital city. The sounds of traffic and construction have faded into the distance, and have been replaced by the squawks of seagulls, chirps of birds high in the trees and the dull moan of the occasional boat.

I shed my jacket, shirt, shoes and socks, rolled up the bottom of my pants and soaked up the warmth of the sun on my own little spot on this planet at this moment of time. This was my holy-shit-I'm-doing-this moment, something that was absolutely free yet invariably a moment of my own.

I meditated on this spot for 10 minutes, focusing on my breathing. I felt the warmth of the sun, listened to the birds and splashes of water. I felt the slight breeze greet my face and chest, and the hard rock against my ankle. The slightest of bluish-purple hues enveloped the world.

28/3 - The adventure on the islands of Oslofjord was one of my favorite times of the three days in Norway because it let me explore out in nature and in solitude. 

After hiking around Hovedøya in total solitude and chatting with a Filipino woman named Janice, the ferry unexpectedly set off for the other islands in the chain, much to my pleasure. 

The boat made six stops in all, but I decided to hop off on the island of Lindøya where I had one hour before the ferry returned. This island is home to a miniature neighborhood of red, green and yellow summer cabins. As I walked between the structures, I was struck by the apparent lack of other humans in the general vicinity. Curtains were drawn and the only sound of footsteps came from my own. 

As I explored a small, private dock complete with the smallest lighthouse I've ever seen, expecting to hear a voice warning me to back away, I found a rickety garden bench at the foot of one crooked and faded dock, along with a small coffee table. I took a seat, put up my feet and had an unobstructed view of Oslofjord.

I was speechless at the sight of the setting sun and its reflection in the water, straight ahead of me. I was also amazed that I had a portion of a Scandinavian island, in early spring, with a beautiful view all to myself. I never expected to find myself in that spot, but it's funny how traveling goes sometimes.

My maiden voyage into Norway was a success, despite the fact I've once again missed my ultimate goal: the Northern Lights. I will visit Oslo in the future but the next time I will head farther north, into the icy, rugged, jaw-dropping arctic Norwegian mountains, for a chance to catch a glimpse of one of the most spectacular natural events.

Until next time.

Hindsight, family in Vichy and the language reversal

16/3 - Just like in Mexico and Spain, I now have family in France.

The Reichmanns and I did a lot of things this week, including shopping at the grocery store, having dinner with Phil and Genevieve, exploring the ancient village of Charroux, hiking the Puy de Dome volcano and having another large dinner with some of the same friends who had a wild party a week ago. But, one thing seemed to be a constant.

This was my attempt at recreating a postcard I found in Charroux.

Charroux is an ancient village. We bought a jar of rooster testicles on this street.

Puy de Dome is a dormant volcano near Clermont-Farrand.

All of us seem to be a good fit with each other. Upon stopping by quickly one night with Genevieve, Phil (who curiously lives about 50 yards down the street) commented on the good atmosphere we seem to have. We're comfortable with each other. It feels like I've slotted in as an older brother, because I've taken to keeping an eye on both of the kids.

Dany has gotten close, as he held my hand at the grocery store a few nights ago. Nathalie and Philipe asked me to carry Dany after he had fallen asleep during the dinner with Phil a few nights ago and the dinner tonight with more of their friends. I enjoyed having a small body snuggle into my shoulder while trying to keep the feeling of sleep and took pride in making sure he didn't lose himself in the grocery store.

I'm proud to say these were some of my favorite memories of Vichy. I've said before that I don't want kids because it will tie me down, but the idea is growing on me. I like the idea of taking care of another life more and more. And the memory of that sky-high voice asking a simple question will stick with me.

"Tu fais quoi?" What are you doing?

17/3 - There are many devices or experiences in the world that anyone can understand or relate to, even if they don't speak the same language.

Math is one. Love. Pain. Joy.

Laughter is another. I played foosball with the Reichmanns and their friends last night, and all of us were laughing hysterically, fueled in small part by alcohol. But in those few moments, all of us spoke the same language fluently.

We sat around the dinner table, drinking, sampling rooster testicles, laughing, hurling jokes, discussing the different ways one can refer to the male and female genitalia and giving me a bad time, especially about my beard. But it was nice because the family could see I was trying my best to speak in French, so they tried their best to speak in English. This reversal is a funny thing.

The fact I can't understand everyone immediately when speaking French is just that: a fact. Like a week ago, I accepted that and and relaxed. I felt in control again. It did not matter one bit that several of the women my age said the beard makes me look old (it does) and that smoking cigars is something an old man does (true). I just looked into their eyes, grinned and shrugged in a playful way.

As I ride the train away from Vichy, I reflect on what I've gained over the past six days. Other than stronger French skills, I've gained a new family. Like my family in Mexico and Spain, I look forward to the next time we cross paths.

I recently read about one way of finding inner peace and calm is to provide service to the community, to make yourself useful regardless of whether you get paid with money. My week in Vichy was a way for me to help my fellow human, and all of us benefited. Nathalie and Philip are better with their English and, like me with my parents in Paris, translating French to English for me helped them.

Nathalie, however, is better at English than her husband, as he usually looks to her when struggling to find the correct combination of words.

18/ 3 - It happens every time. When I reflect on what I've done through the prism of hindsight, I'm always amazed. March had always been shaping up to be a busy month, but it's been a whirlwind with my parents visiting and the exchange with the Reichmanns. Every time I finish some sort of trip or plan, I have that momentary moment of nostalgia, a melancholy feeling that I have nothing else to look forward to.

I had been looking forward to both of these for months, and suddenly I'm on the other side of them. My mind has been stretched once more. I think a better time to properly digest my experiences will be next week, as I'll host friends from England this weekend.

As a final thought, I took pictures yesterday in Paris while waiting for my bus. I found myself in La Defense, the area of the city with many tall and shiny skyscrapers. Once again, this camera has stunned me.

Tour EDF, the building that houses France's main electricity company.

A difficult party, Vichy and the language exchange

I've started this off a bit out of context. The article will explain my situation eventually, so bear with me to begin. Also, please enjoy the pictures, as I have had a blast playing with the new camera. 

11/3 - I've been reading about power lately. One thing we must learn to recognize is when to submit and how long we must endure that period.

For example, the Reichamanns hosted a party tonight. There were 15 people and I was the only non-French speaker. At first, it was stressful. For a few moments I went back to the days when I would become flustered and struggle to say the simplest things in my new language. But, I remembered something.

The most important thing we can learn is how to control our emotions. So, I took a breath and relaxed. I opened my mouth and just spoke. I spoke French to the Reichmanns' friends and they understood me. In fact they were impressed that I've only studied French since October.

This was one of those situations when I accepted that I had no power, so I could just ride the wave. In a room where I was the only person with a different native language, I figured my best option was to laugh at myself and all of the jokes and pleasantries thrown my way. Laughing at oneself cures everything.

But I also remembered from my readings to keep myself in control. I stopped drinking wine and beer after a while and observed the other guests descend into intoxicated oblivion, eventually to a point where some began smearing cake on each other's faces. It was quite funny to watch, and the fact I was laughing at myself made others around me relax.

So, even though I didn't have much power there in terms of fluent communication, I still retained some power by relaxing and controlling how I projected myself to the rest of the guests.

So by that reasoning, I was the most powerful person in the room!

13/3 - Now to introductions. Marie-Amance's father, Phil, collected me from the train station in Vichy last week. It was excellent to see him again, and he showed me around downtown on foot. He introduced me to his girlfriend, Genevieve, and eventually took me to the Reichmann's house where we all had dinner. Phil gives English lessons to the Reichmanns twice per week, and it's here where I'm staying for seven days in a French-English language exchange.

Jean-Phillipe has a goatee and bald head, and is shorter than I am. He built a successful plumbing and heating company, which he sold back in September, and he's a fan of American muscle cars; he owned a new Camaro until recently. 

His wife, Nathalie, is a long, lanky and slim woman with red hair; she's elegant. There are some pictures of their wedding in the house inside this spacious home; my favorite of which is of Nathalie, in her wedding dress, pulling a bemused-looking Jean-Phillipe by his tie.

They have two children: Dany (6) and Jade (8). Both of them were shy on the first day, but they warmed up quickly to me. Dany, especially, enjoys throwing plastic-tipped darts or playing Playstation 4. I have trouble understanding him sometimes because, as all young children do, he speaks in that much-too-cute high-pitched voice. Jade speaks quickly and has a large birthmark on her face, which sort of looks like an old burn.

There are similarities to my month in La Almunia de Doña Godina in Spain a couple of years ago, but Jade and Dany are a bit more calm compared to Alex and Nuria; there have been no temper tantrums, and the only loud piercing screams have come from Dany when he scraped his back while climbing a tree or skinning his wrist upon falling down into gravel while running. The two kids are quite polite, especially at the dinner table; I noticed they always say "please" and "thank you," in both French and English. 

But before arriving in Vichy, I foresaw the similarities and pledged to myself to use the lessons I learned in Spain for this experience. In Spain I learned how immature I still was and that I had forgotten how the mind of a child works. Nuria and Alex tested me, because I took myself so seriously. Only now do I understand that Nuria and Alex were still in their unchanged natural states, whereas I was wrapped up in social protocols that had been drilled into me since I was their age and expectations of others, as well as myself. 

Anyway, it's only been three days or so here in Vichy, but the Reichmanns already seem more comfortable speaking English and vice versa with me and French. But, Spanish is still in my mind and the odd Spanish word slips out instead of French. Just like in Spain, though, I have noticed a sort of reversal. My brain is switched into French mode, so I think and speak in French even when explaining English. It's the opposite for the Reichmanns. 

As for Vichy itself, it's a quiet place, so unlike Paris (and thus, like Cherbourg). The fact it sits near a dormant volcano means one can find both hot springs and natural sparking mineral water springs around the area. There are several taps around the city which tap into these deep underground springs, and the resulting water is free of charge to the public. People can just walk up and fill several large bottles of the stuff. Though I usually dislike sparkling water, this is a bit less carbonated and has a different taste. 

A cruise, a photo and some humble pie

8/3 - As the violin and piano dueled, the lights on the Eiffel Tower seemed to be in the same chaotic tune, blinking quickly with frequency. 

As he sat there, transfixed by the sight, he was reminded by how fortunate he was. His parents sat opposite of him and without their help and influence, he would not have been on the boat then, or six years ago during a much different time. He owed everything to them.

Without his parents' help, he wouldn't be infected with the chronic travel sickness he is today. Without them, Planet Earth wouldn't have shrunk. Without them, he wouldn't have connections on every continent in the world (besides Antarctica). 

This was a first for him. Paris is a familiar city, as are the cheeses, escargot and merlot wine. But the fine dining on the Seine River, piano and violin, were not. At times, the melancholy sounds emanating from the instruments seemed appropriate during the cruise, however cliche they came across. All of this combined to humble him because if its absolute bliss. 

As they sailed down the Seine, he was again reminded of his desire to live in the City of Love, how he ached for a companion to sit next to him while he drew her close with his arm. Paris, just then, had passed London as the city he'd most like to inhabit.

10/3 - It was an honor and a pleasure to show my parents around Normandy and Paris. I've been lucky enough to be able to live here and visit Paris many times, but it was satisfying to help others see all of it for the first time. 

Perhaps it was fitting, then, that our last few moments together were spent battling the current of rush-hour metro foot traffic. I watched them struggle to get their luggage through the ticket barrier, then watched until they turned a corner and disappeared.

I had been waiting months to host them, excited to show them my new home. It seemed we were closer than ever, despite being farther away in distance. It seems they too have caught the travel bug, finally. 

France has been a place of firsts for me, and the discovery of photography has been another. There was one photo during the past week in Paris at the Palace of Versaille, that shocked even myself. I had never done anything like it. 

I found myself in a room with a work of art acting as the ceiling. I went to sit on the ground in the corner because it felt right. I'm starting to see that I can see a picture before I actually take out the camera; sometimes they look better in my head, other times not. 

But this picture was lucky. I took only two or three shots. As a result, my mother looks regal, like a model of a sophisticated photoshoot. 

I now have the fortune of keeping this camera for the next few months so I can practice with it. It will be fun to take it to Norway. 

But now, it's time for me to head south to Vichy, for the week of language exchange with the Reichmanns.

Photography, revisiting Mont St. Michel and some visitors

3/3 - It's time to accept something new about myself.

Just like my father, I am a photographer. At least, this art form is fun and comes easily to me.

The more I handle this camera, the more time seems to slip away. With photography, except in specific circumstances, the abstract idea of time does not matter. Each and every place is an opportunity to produce a great photo.

With this camera, my mind takes on a new function. I get lost simply imagining a new picture. I find satisfaction in getting a good shot, even if I have to sit on my backside in wet sand or lie prone in dirt.
 

And while exploring Mont St-Michel with my parents (this time sans thick fog) the community's tiny alleyways and staircases provided ample opportunities to project my imagination.

As I climbed, zigged and zagged looking for an interesting shot, I noted how I was locked in on the moment, like a laser-guided missile. It didn't matter where I was, when I was or even who I was. The most important thing in that moment was creation. I had detached myself of my emotions, and even myself, in those moments.

But the thing about the commune is how difficult it is to do it justice through photography. No matter what angle I took or where I snapped a shot, I couldn't truly capture the grandeur of this place. Mont St. Michel is simply one of those places one must visit in person to truly appreciate.

I've been introduced to a new idea today. From the 12th Tradition, one should put aside their personal beliefs and desires for the good of the group. In order to take care of business as efficiently as possible for a group, decisions must be made made on relevant information rather than off the sway of emotions or personal dislike of others. 

Sometimes, the aforementioned group can contain a single entity: the Self. We must put aside emotions, desires, dislikes or self doubt in order to make a decision that will benefit ourselves at an individual level. This is what I did before coming to France. A part of me knew it was the way forward so I put my full effort into the application for the visa. I submitted the application but kept my expectations in check.

4/3 - Believe it or not, I locked myself and my parents out of the flat last night because I left my keys inside the rental car after returning it. So as we walked towards the pizza restaurant, I suddenly remembered where they were and had that small moment of panic. But immediately I felt calm inside my own head.

It wasn't important that I had forgotten them. What mattered was that I found myself with the sudden, burning desire to fix this problem as soon as possible. I was calm, relaxed, cold. I had a course of action inside my head. When I finished my pizza, I left the restaurant and set off quickly on foot.

This time, I knew the name, phone number and address of the woman who has a copy of my flat key. This time, my phone had battery life. This time, I was warm. After a few phone calls and 45 minutes later, I had the key in my hand and got inside my flat. 

So, that story was much less exciting than the one in late December. But, I know the landlord now, a small, elderly woman who is suspicious at first but friendly afterwards. In fact she swung by my flat yesterday to give me information about where I can take French lessons in Cherbourg.

This is another connection.

5/3 - The presence of my parents in Cherbourg is great because I can show others my new home from my point of view. While on our field trips to Mont St. Michel and Omaha Beach, I found satisfaction in seeing the reactions of my parents to places I've already had the fortune to see. 

I was happy to drive my parents all over Normandy, because this is their vacation and I have the privilege of doing so. 

Another positive of their visit is that I seem to have improved my French because I am ordering for them at restaurants and translating for them. The language is slowing down a little bit when a native speaks it. The fact my parents have someone who knows a little bit of French makes them more comfortable.