The Susanne

I’m falling back in love with Oslo. Growing up I always felt a strong connection to Oslo because I was born there and spent the happiest years of my childhood there in a flat overlooking the central station train depot where I’d sit in the window sill and watch the trains and sing train songs. Mum went to university and I went to the university day care where I had a friend named Magnus and we would hide together when the other children fought. Then dad got a job in Eidsvoll and we had to move. Both the children and the adults in Eidsvoll mocked my Oslo accent and said I talked funny and pronounced words wrongly. Other children’s parents called me Sussane and I tried contradicting them for a while but it didn’t make a difference.

Since moving back to Oslo for university I’ve felt disappointed in this little city with little to do and less to see. I’ve longed for greater and grander places, dreamed of moving to London or Paris or New York or even Stockholm. But I’m beginning to appreciate Oslo for what it is now. It is my home, and it is beautiful. There are parks and museums and the fjord with beaches and islands and there are hills for skiing and forests and lakes and the city centre is so small everything is in walking distance (at least if you’re not too lazy). There are bars and restaurants and cafés and although it is expensive I can live with that because I love Oslo.

We cry when something is sad, said Gran after a while.

And then we often shed a tear when something is beautiful, too.

In the week since I finished my essays I have done nothing constructive. Well, to tell the truth I did read The Tempest last Tuesday but hey, that’s almost a week ago. I’ve since partied, been to the Andy Warhol exhibit, improvised an Obama party before heading to the ‘actual’ election night party which was hosted by Republicans, had countless coffees at countless cafés, met up with an old friend and made a few new ones, discussed Kafka with a real German, skipped and jumped around listening to silly girly music, been ridiculously drunk, excruciatingly hung over, suffered insomnia and lost my appetite. And I’ve not had this much fun in a long, long time!

Yesterday was windy and rainy and cold. I really wanted nothing more than to stay in, but I was restless from the week of doing stuff all the time — I suppose I’ve become spoiled? — and I somehow found myself on a bus heading downtown to meet Stian for coffee. As the bus went through an intersection a gust of wind blew a girl’s umbrella right out of her hands and towards the bus right beneath my window. I watched, enthralled, perhaps in the way you really can’t look away when you drive past  the site of a car accident because even though you don’t want to look you just have to — I was so curious to find out what would happen when the umbrella went under the bus, but at the same time I felt incredibly bad for the girl who was about to have her umbrella run over by a bus. But then, in the split second when the umbrella was about to disappear under the bus something incredible happened: it was instantly blown right back into the girl’s outstretched arms, as if the bus had rejected it and spit it out. Strange, right? I thought so, anyway.

The night before as Lisbeth and I made our way past the river Akerselva on the way to the tram stop, we noticed on the adjacent lawn a group of ducks that had apparently rejected the river itself as their nightly refuge and instead gathered on dry land. I took a snapshot which scared them a little but I think it was worth it as I really think it came out pretty cool. Notice the flash reflected in all their eyes and the fog in the foreground. Spooky! (You might have to zoom in on the photo to see it…)

Handed in my essay at 14:59 and can now only keep my fingers and toes crossed and hope for the best. Have begun reading the lovely little book that the girl recommended and I can honestly say I agree with her, this book is endearigly, enthrallingly sweet, captivating, hilarious all at once. I’m definitely not going to sleep until I’ve finished it, although I really could use some sleep. Have barely slept a wink for two nights in a row whilst completing two very important essays in three days and feel close to fainting, but at the same time strangely exhilarated. I actually did it! I think instead of crawling into bed I’m going to stroll down to my favourite café/shop/restaurant Mat og Mer to celebrate with my book and perhaps a glass of wine. Or maybe a coffee would be a better idea — but then, I’m done, I can drink whatever I want now and read whatever I want although I find myself strangely drawn to my course reading lists, perhaps it’s the intense three day essay marathon that did it, maybe my brain is so full of renaissance literature that that is all it can understand and relate to and wish for. Except for En rekke avbrutte forsøk (A series of interrupted attempts) which is the book I’m so in love with right now… Well, I’m off I think! Here’s just a tidbit from the party on Thursday; I’ll not go into any long tale of how fun the party was or how amazingly Filologen turned out or how proud I am of myself and the rest of the people who’ve worked on it, here’s 1000 words and then, ta-ta! x

Work today was hectic and stressful and even though — or possibly because of, you never know when fate wants to kick you while you’re down — I managed to get my boss’ blessing to work on my essay during lulls, I had no chance to because all of Eidsvoll seemed to have decided that today was the big ‘let’s go to the library-day’. I now have about four hours to complete my essay and, well, I’m not doing too well. I keep glancing over at the book I brought from work as a sort of carrot, wishing it was Tuesday so I could read it. I don’t know if anyone can really appreciate my position today: I spent hours and hours surrounded by books, books, books, and lending them out to people and advising them on what to read and looking up books on travel, theatre, food and hunting and all I wanted to do was pick out about a hundred of those lovely books and bring them home with me. I couldn’t allow myself to do that, of course, as I’ve less than two days to finish two essays and I’m so easily distracted I’m having a hard enough time staying away from the books I already have piled up in my room. But oh… all those lovely books! And some of them looked very lonely, it was like they were looking at me with big puppy-dog eyes, saying ‘please take me home and love me?’ — I just had to force myself to look away.

But then a girl came in to return a stack of books and I noticed a few of my own favourites in the pile. And then she pointed at a little yellow one and said ‘this one was so amazingly beautiful’ and I was sold. I took it out immediately and placed it in my bag next to The Castle. And come Tuesday I’ll open it up on the title page and possibly not put it down until I’ve finished it, at least I know I’ll be savouring it, enjoying every minute and every little word and phrase of my regained freedom. As a  reward of course, which means I have to really get both my essays done, and done well, well enough to pass at least. Oh I hope I can do it. Please let me pull this off!