What Is Freedom?

It's a humongous question. Open to and subject of all kinds of philosophical discussions done by brains everywhere. Particularly in the US where they once defined it, only to loose the definition in order to create newer definitions on something already defined. But if you'd met this five-year-old girl in a field somewhere in the middle of Norway a summer afternoon, she'd have no problem giving you a satisfactory answer. Sunny day. Dirty knees. A large field of really tall corn, the ability and willingness to run run run, fall fall fall, and perhaps, at the end of the day, an ice-cream cone from grandma's freezer. Sometimes looking hard for something means it's just right there.

Free Food!

On a recent stroll in the many parks of my hometown I came upon a childhood favorite. Cherry trees! As a young punk I used to steal cherries from Arnardo, the circus family. They had several large ones, surrounding their house by our cabin, and all summer they’d be gone circusing leaving us free to pillage their trees. We’d sit for hours shoving our faces, making our moms very upset over our cherry-soaked t-shirts, rendered un-cleanable and making it impossible to stand before a judge with innocent faces. Now these trees scattered all around the public greenness that is Oslo serves a different purpose. Free food! In these times of low income, new beginnings and an anorexic wallet, the red berries have become a valued source of vitamins and juice. But as I bite down and devour the pulp, I admit, getting them off the forbidden trees tasted much better.

Universal Vacation

It’s summer in Norway. Summer is a favorite of Norwegians, it gives them free rains to party, drink and fornicate. To assist its citizens in this endeavor, various festivals have been created with this purpose in mind. And music, of course. Jazz, rock, punk, indie and classical can be enjoyed in a natural, outdoor setting. Add some overpriced beer in plastic cups, a scorching sun overhead, and you have the ingredients for the perfect Norwegian summer. It also has another interesting, yet determining factor. It’s called the Universal Vacation. Every year, around July, Norwegians go on vacation so they can enjoy said festivals and the summer cabins they occupy only a few weeks a year. This sociodemocratic nation provides its citizens with five weeks of vacation a year, most of which is taken during July and August. The result of this is that doing things like eating at a restaurant, seeing your favorite dentist, having a baby, taking a train or seeing a judge becomes very difficult as all these people, and more, have gone on holiday at the same time. Norway in the summer moves at a slower speed than a slug, but the happiness is vast and bountiful.

I [heart] Oslo

"The minority is always right" from En Folkefiende by Henrik Ibsen

Oslo’s main street is named after a Swedish king, Karl Johan. He earned his keep as king from the swedes after he excelled in battles against all-time-favorite, little man Napoleon. In 1814 Norway became its own kingdom united with Sweden and with Karl Johan as king. Norway’s training wheels as a country came off in 1905 when we broke free, much to Sweden's current dismay. Strolling his street on my way to work one morning I noticed something that I’m sure has been there for years, but it’s new to me as I’m about 11 years behind my countrymen. The sidewalk is littered with quotes! And not just any quotes, words of wisdom from one of Norway’s late great men, Henrik Ibsen. They’re spread all the way from the King’s castle to the Parliament, as a reminder of who we are and were we came from. His quotes about life’s hardships with nationalistic undertones ring loud on a street he once walked every day for his coffee and chatter with fellow literary greats. Even now, more than 100 years after his death, he's still chattering up a storm on Karl Johan.

I [heart] New York

Relationships can be hard. Sometimes the love just isn’t there anymore, and passion fizzles into a memory of the past. Instead of skipping a beat, the heart feels dreary and lame, searching frantically for feelings once there. Nothing. Gone. No deal. So as I packed my bags and closed the door behind me one last time I remember the good times, what once was this magical city which taught me so much, but alas the magic is gone. Later Yorkis! I'll miss ya!!