This past week I went on a short trip with the International class to Hovden, Norway. Hovden is sort of situated in the middle of Southern Norway, and its Narnia-worthy waist-high snowfall and multitude of peaks makes it a haven for skiers and snowboarders. We drove up on Monday morning, saw a reindeer on the way there, then got there and trekked through the aforementioned waist-high snow up a hill (both ways) to get to our hytte (cabin). Once we got there and peeled the socks and boots off of our pruned, clammy feet, we sat down at the fire and didn’t move until it was time to eat. This would prove to be a common theme for the rest of our trip.
The second day, Nancy and I made breakfast. Breakfast was at 9:00, because the night before, when Morten suggested we should have it at 9:30, which might get us to the slopes half an hour after they opened, Kyril threatened to kill him with a bucket of water: “Hvis ikke han står opp tidlig nok, jeg skal drep ham. Jeg skal kaste vann på ham.” After letting the rolls rise for what seemed like hours, we finally were ready to hit the slopes. I gave Nancy a quick ski lesson (I guess all those ski lessons I took in 6th grade actually paid off, mom!), and then left her to maneuver her way around all the 3-year-olds and their parents on the barnebakken. Then I made my way up to the big kid runs, and glided down like it hadn’t been 2 years since the last time I touched my snowboard.
Later that night, we went ice skating, where, as shown by by stunning ability to skate backwards, my skating lessons of yore paid off. The next day, the other kids went swimming at badeland while I wrote in my journal and listened to the banter of Norwegian adolescents.
shredding the gnar.
trekking to the hytte.
