public transit

The Norwegians seem to have smaller personal bubbles than Americans do when it comes to public transportation. With Americans, at least in my experience, if you're sitting next to a stranger on a crowded train, either you or the stranger are expected to move to an empty row as soon as one opens up (or possibly when a certain number of empty rows open up). That way, as vacancies increase and personal bubbles expand, neither of you has to intrude into the other's personal space.

With Norwegians, though, the etiquette seems to be that you stay in your seat. Even if empty rows of seats open up all around you and the stranger beside you, I believe you're expected to stay put. Perhaps it's considered rude to do otherwise.

dammit

When I got to the airport, I realized that I forgot my passport. So, no trip to Slovenia for me.

sundays

On Sunday, when everything is closed, Norwegians apparently all go out for walks. The sidewalks are full of twosomes and foursomes as people take a walk with their partner. Single individuals are uncommon. And about 1 in 5 groups has a baby carriage.

Regarding baby carriages, crime is so nonexistent here that people are OK parking a carriage in front of, say, a cafe and going in for a bite to eat -- leaving the baby in the carriage.

food

Aside from 7-11, I haven't eaten out here yet. Just too expensive. My dinners tend to be fairly simple fare, then, because I don't really care to cook, and because all I have at my disposal right now is a stove and oven. No microwave. Tonight, for example, I tried to cook hot dogs (of some sort) on the stove top. They turned out OK, but like most of the food I'm able to get my hands on, they're full of fat and not very healthy.

I also bought a can of some sort of meatballs. I don't know what kind of meat. And I don't know if they need to be cooked or not. However, I had them in a frozen dinner out here, and they tasted good. They might be Swedish meatballs.

culture shock

Yesterday, I experienced my first bout of culture shock. It had been growing slowly all week, and then hit me suddenly on Friday. Basically, the distance and differences instantly became too much for me. I talked with some other ex-pats, and apparently that's common.

containers

Maybe it's the low-end stores I'm patronizing, but the Norwegian grocery stores don't bag your purchases for you. Rather, they ask if you want a bag, and then give you one. You then hurriedly pack your groceries while the clerks start scanning the items of the next customer and sliding them into the bagging area. If you need another bag, you have to ask for one.

Also, the Norwegians don't seem to have anything resembling tupperware or any other storage container. I wonder if those are an American thing, reflecting our tendency and ability to make more food than we can eat.

chanting

Although the wall between my apartment and the one next door is mostly cement, there's an air vent that seems to connect the two, the result being that I can clearly hear what goes on over there. And chanting seems to be what's going on. Every Friday night, and then scattered throughout the weekend, it sounds like of group of several guys over there chanting loundly. It's not a Gregorian-type chant, but rather a fast-paced one with not a lot of rhythm, or perhaps a fairly complex one. I can't tell what language it is, but it sounds like Arabic, African, or possibly even Hebrew.