Ji Snakke Bare Litt Norsk

I have traveled to the land of my ancestors-the great white explosion, the arctic tundra, the bone chilling social experiment which can also be referred to as....Oslo, Norway.

To the left you can catch a glimpse of me indulging in the everyday culture by clutching a bulk sized can of Fiskebolle (fish balls)-a traditional dish which I learned you cannot buy in restaurants but everyone eats it in their own homes like an American macaroni & cheese.

I stood in the grocery store my first evening I landed in the slush and the sleet with my friend Ana who was gracious enough to allow me to stay with her and hang out with her awesomeness during my week abroad. The temperature fluctuated between single digits and negative but thankfully I never allowed myself to do the Celsius conversion in my head. In that sense I felt all the warmer.

Most travel books will tell you not to visit Norway in the winter and instead journey there during the summer season when the weather in blissfully temperate and the seas are abuzz with boats docked and cheerful Scandinavian smiles on every corner. I tend to disagree. There was something sublimely picturesque about padding through snow piles on a daily basis. Sure-my thighs got the best workout from finding the minute areas of traction on the slush paved sidewalks with my flat soled Uggs but I couldn't help but stop and push my pale American face up toward the snow flaked sky and sigh in a content flush.

I took in the sights and the sounds guided by another friend, Marie, who made sure my cultural experience was absolutely complete.

Aside from The National Gallery where I gazed at Munch's "The Scream" and Christian Krohg's left and right, The Viking Ship Museum rife with authentic Viking bones and relics, Ibsen's house which in and of itself was a pilgrimage for a playwright such as myself. They explained that Ibsen had a vast portrait of his rival, Swedish dramatist August Strindberg peering down at him from behind while he wrote. The image served as a constant reminder that the famed writer of Miss Julie was always straddling the edges of his Norwegian coattails.

Two experiences from my journey are moments that I will never forget. The first I must highlight was the sculpture garden. Marie and I took the standard tourist shots, above, Marie poses along with two screaming sculptures. The peaceful majesty of the statues in the snow was lovely. Taking a stroll down the path of emotional stone is a tremendous experience. If you're ever in the area do take the time to see it.

The other experience that I don't think my body would ever let me forget is my trip down the dog sledding lane. As seen to the left, Ana poses with one of our dog team. Now, when planning my trip I knew I wanted to experience something traditionally Nordic. Never having skied with the exception of a couple of downhill bunny slope attempts on a youth group field trip as a teenager-I knew that I wouldn't be doing that. So, obviously, when I tumbled upon a web-site that suggested dog sledding I was sold. In my mind-dog sledding would constitute sitting serenely on a reindeer skin pelt grasping a piping hot beverage and taking in the snowy fjords while a team of cute husky dogs sled me along a flat surface.

Obviously, that was incorrect. They look so innocent-don't they? Before you tie them to the sled and let them roll. To the left, I gingerly pet one of the dogs. Little did I know that he would be one of the creatures responsible for pummeling me off the sled time after time after time after time. For anyone that doesn't know what dog sledding entails it is tremendously similar to skiing-again, I reiterate....something I have never done. I was on the back of the sled while Ana, much shorter then myself stood in the middle. We were given a short tutorial-don't let the anchor rip the flesh of your leg off, break when going downhill, AND when the sled tips carefully pull it back up out of the snow and hold on tight as the voracious, anxious, ticket to run dogs whisk you up and downhill repeatedly.

Even though afterward I was covered from head to toe with wintry white and my muscles felt as though they had done eighteen hours of Pilate's I wouldn't trade it for anything. I will never forget my time on the sled or for that matter breaking everytime one of the sled dogs Axel ran crazily up the hill.

Norway is a country people don't put on their "to visit" lists. I would have to say however-you should. It's a culturally diverse land of the vikings with sights and sounds uniquely enjoyable and a pleasant population to boot.