Around the Hearth
Last night, I was invited to dinner at the home of my Norwegian host, Andy, and his wife, Astri, who also works at IRIS. It was grateful to be invited into their home, and they were extremely hospitable.
It occurred to me that one aspect of culture is the norms of home life, and you really experience a culture by entering someone's home. In recent years, I've spent most of my time in apartments, and something feels distinctly different to me whenever I'm in a house. Apartments are the dwellings of transient young people; we're constantly moving, we're barely ever home, and we don't get particularly attached to our places of residence. Someone who lives in a house, on the other hand, is probably planning to stay there for a while. They probably have a family, and they have taken the time to establish a sustainable, long-term home.
I remember visiting a friend's parent's house in Germany and remarking to myself how different the house felt from the house I grew up in. This particular house was quite cluttered with stuff, to the point that the hallways were made narrower by the things being stored along the walls, and the garden was heavily landscaped. It struck me as very intense living - lots of stuff in a small space. Andy and Astri's neighborhood could also be described as "intense living" because the plots of land are quite small and heavily landscaped, and the houses are close together. No garden gnomes, though. Thank goodness there were no garden gnomes.
I'm learning that the concept of having a lawn is uniquely American. No European dreams of gazing out their giant windows at a solid acre of nothing but grass. They tend to use their yards as gardens, planting vegetables and flowers that they will later harvest and eat. To be honest, last night I was caught off-guard when some flowers from the garden trellis showed up in the salad, but I think there's a certain value in growing your own food. You know exactly where it came from, and you have a relationship with the land.
One last observation I'll make: I think Europeans are much more protective of their land than Americans, maybe because there is so little of it to go around. Every Norwegian house has either a fence or a hedge around the perimeter of the yard. In contrast, I remember when I was growing up in the U.S., our neighbor's dog would regularly run through our backyard, and it didn't bother anyone. That'd never happen over here because each yard is guarded by a wooden wall.
Despite the outward appearance of possessiveness, even isolation, caused by the ubiquitous fences, I have to say the Norwegians I've encountered so far are open, generous people. As we were walking to the beach, Andy knocked on someone's door to tell him the headlights of his car had been left on, and the guy responded with gratitude, not annoyance at being disturbed. Andy and Astri even offered me their spare bike, which I'll now use to get to IRIS and back.
Last night was definitely a highlight of my time in Stavanger so far. I walked away feeling warm, accepted, welcomed, part of a group. It's hard to believe I've been here 3 days, because Stavanger is already beginning to feel like home.
It occurred to me that one aspect of culture is the norms of home life, and you really experience a culture by entering someone's home. In recent years, I've spent most of my time in apartments, and something feels distinctly different to me whenever I'm in a house. Apartments are the dwellings of transient young people; we're constantly moving, we're barely ever home, and we don't get particularly attached to our places of residence. Someone who lives in a house, on the other hand, is probably planning to stay there for a while. They probably have a family, and they have taken the time to establish a sustainable, long-term home.
I remember visiting a friend's parent's house in Germany and remarking to myself how different the house felt from the house I grew up in. This particular house was quite cluttered with stuff, to the point that the hallways were made narrower by the things being stored along the walls, and the garden was heavily landscaped. It struck me as very intense living - lots of stuff in a small space. Andy and Astri's neighborhood could also be described as "intense living" because the plots of land are quite small and heavily landscaped, and the houses are close together. No garden gnomes, though. Thank goodness there were no garden gnomes.
I'm learning that the concept of having a lawn is uniquely American. No European dreams of gazing out their giant windows at a solid acre of nothing but grass. They tend to use their yards as gardens, planting vegetables and flowers that they will later harvest and eat. To be honest, last night I was caught off-guard when some flowers from the garden trellis showed up in the salad, but I think there's a certain value in growing your own food. You know exactly where it came from, and you have a relationship with the land.
One last observation I'll make: I think Europeans are much more protective of their land than Americans, maybe because there is so little of it to go around. Every Norwegian house has either a fence or a hedge around the perimeter of the yard. In contrast, I remember when I was growing up in the U.S., our neighbor's dog would regularly run through our backyard, and it didn't bother anyone. That'd never happen over here because each yard is guarded by a wooden wall.
Despite the outward appearance of possessiveness, even isolation, caused by the ubiquitous fences, I have to say the Norwegians I've encountered so far are open, generous people. As we were walking to the beach, Andy knocked on someone's door to tell him the headlights of his car had been left on, and the guy responded with gratitude, not annoyance at being disturbed. Andy and Astri even offered me their spare bike, which I'll now use to get to IRIS and back.
Last night was definitely a highlight of my time in Stavanger so far. I walked away feeling warm, accepted, welcomed, part of a group. It's hard to believe I've been here 3 days, because Stavanger is already beginning to feel like home.
Comments
Post a Comment