In between my trip to Morocco and Easter break one of my best friends has planned to have his wedding. He, and his wife to be (which is also a friend, since the world of classic philology is rather incestuous) are people who've been reading wedding magazines since long before they had anyone to wed. So it's going to be a rather big affair. (He also finds it hilarious that their wedding day is the Ides of March.)

Whereas I love the food, gossip and dancing at the wedding itself, I'm not very fond of everything I have to do to get there, which is one of the reason why my, purely theoretical wedding, is going to be a informal affair with lots of food and friends. So today I've had my hair cut, and had to buy some stuff like a black underskirt, a couple of extra pantyhoses, and a new black bra because I haven't gotten around to wash the (nice) one I have yet, new lipstick and a million of other things that I only wear at weddings. Thankfully I bought my outfit before I went to Marrakesh, I just went into a shop and said "I'm going to a wedding. I hate shopping. Dress me." It worked I think. At least I got clothes. And my friend Liv, whom I travelled with to Marrakesh, is the Shopping Goddess, and she found me some nice accessories in the souqs.

All right, I have to be in the church in two hours, time to hit the shower.

Having friends is so difficult. Since forever me and a friend have been planning to take a holiday together, but something has always gone awry, eitehr I have money and she don't - or vice versa, I have a job/important engagement/have to save the world or she has. SO far so good. But then when we manage to find a place and time, both have some money, she keeps dragging in extra friends she wants to bring along, and likewise they don't have time/money/the haircut when we planned on going.

All this of course has been discussed over mail, sicne we all live within 3 kilometres of each other and meet at least once a week. And the emails have become snippier and grumpier, interspersed with text messages when can you go?

Of course someone (not me though) decided that meeting face to face was a good idea, but still the questions keep coming. I just can't stand this, I feel pressured, I've just stopped answering my mail and mobile, and have really contemplated saying "Sorry, I can't go. I can't take all this planning!"

But I really want to go on some kind of holiday...

(Insert blues comp in D here.)
I woke up this morning
So cold on my nose (rep)
It was only five minutes later
that I realised
I couldn't feel my toes.

Yup. Autumn's here. The weather is lovely, but it's rather cold. And my house is old and beautiful, but also old and not particularly well insulated.

Aside from that? Hilde has been visiting from Hebron (missing out on the bloodiest day in a long time), and the days have been filled with sweet coffee and skillingsboller (cinnamon buns as we make them in Bergen). Furthermore the last wasp of the year also decided to sting me on my throat and I've spent the afternoon in the emergency room. Exciting life huh?

Also we've started the preparations for you house-warming party. It's on Saturday, if you should happen to be in Bergen you are welcome.

My lack of appearance the last week was mostly due to my friend Kristine visiting from Oslo, much time was spent eating, drinking and giggling, with frequent conversations about important things in our lives, food, Buffy and Star Trek. And drinking, did I mention that? I've barely been on seen in the vicinity of a pint since June, so five days of boozing was more than enough, both for me and my bank account. But it was fun.

Also I realised that I haven't been out drinking since the new law that forbids smoking in all public places came into force*. It was kind of nice to wake up the next morning and not have to deal with hair and clothes that stank of old cigarette smoke, the throbbing head and the taste of diesel in my mouth is more than enough.

Besides that being unemployed is still uninspiringly boring. All the jobs I'm looking for are asking for relevant experience. But how can I even get the relevant experience when nobody want to hire me! And what is relevant experience anyway?
Extreme amounts of expletives was deleted in this paragraph.

Furthermore I've learnt a new English word today; hob.
Also I live in Allþgaten.

*Is this the right expression? Law isn't my forte.

I've fallen in love with the view from my window. For the first time in years I live so high up I have a rather unhindered view of the sky. And my workspace window (where I am now) is facing west and even though I can't see the sun set I can enjoy the slowly changing colours of the sky. Today it's all clear and I have sat here for hours watching the colours change from blue through the orange and pink of the sun setting, and for the last hour or so, a darker and darker blue and indigo.

Also we have at last gotten our summer with temperatures above 25°C, which is impressingly hot for Bergen. It's not so bad now, but last week it was horrible hot and really humid, with frequent showers. I don't complain though.

The lovely summer weather has also created a nice backdrop for the last couple of days; I spent the weekend in Trondheim attending Ingeborg and Øyvind's wedding. It was all wonderful. Most of their relatives and friends are musicians so during the ceremony lots there was lots of lovely music (I played too). the vicar was Øyvind's father, and he held a lovely and heartfelt speech, even I was moved, and I'm usually a coldhearted bitch even at times like that.

The party afterwards was great too. It was held at Ringve, an old country seat outside Trondheim, now it's museum for music and musical instruments and a really idlyllic place. Great food, funny speeches, lots of nice people. During the party there were entertainment by the guests (still lots of musicians), and the usual: chatting, cake eating and dancing. I flirted relentlessly with two cute boys and went home alone. Sunday I went to service in the Nidarosdomen since I couldn't find much more action in Tronheim on a Sunday morning and I was kicked out from the youth hostel. I got to sing lots of psalms to the divided pleasure of congregation and tourists.

Yesterday I had a day off, so I slept late in my comfortable big, bed and met Siglinde for coffee, ice cream and more coffee. Lovely just to laze about.

Bedtime now, I'm supposed to be at work in seven hours. Hmf.

Sometimes I think about all the people whom I've known, considered my friends, and that now are lost to me, living in other parts of the world, or perhaps still in my own home town. One of those friends, Christofer once said that friends will always meet again. I remember the day, we were sitting outside sharing an enormous banana split, it was still a bit too cool, so he was all wrapped up in that red jacket he used to wear. And some time after this memory he is gone, and sometimes I still miss him.

Thinking about all the people I've once known and cared for makes me sad, but also a bit angry with myself, because I know that a big part of them slipping out of my radar is my own fault, I'm lousy at keeping in contact with people. I've written scores of letters, cards, emails, but it makes me so tired, and I forget all about them, and I still find letters, unsent, outdated, in old notebooks.

And I feel sad because I sometimes can't put the right name to a face, can't remember where I met and lost someone, because I have an address or a telephone number, but don't know what to tell them except that I once cared about them and I miss them. Somehow that isn't enough.

Back from Oslo, actually I was back some days ago, but had lots of lost sleep to make up for. Sissel thinks it's evil to go to bed before 2am and I still wake up at 6am. The visit was nice. Oslo is fun sometimes. Friday watched the wedding (Aww, wasn't Fredrik cuuute?). As a part of my birthday present we had tickets to the opera, La Boheme, in the evening. It was ok, aside from the fact that the scene makes everything sound like it's sung inside a bucket. The instructor or something had the seat beside me, and he kept whispering these comments in my ear, the lead singer's high notes, the soprano that should be in bed and that the stand in was waiting behind the stage, the interpretation and the lack of good altos, so if I ever would consider a career-change...

Saturday was my birthday (29! Shouldn't I figure out what I want in life soon?) I am a pathetic birthday-junkie, and being away on my birthday was all wrong, no big party, no congratulatory phone calls, just so many textmessages that the inbox on my mobile broke down. Well, it was fun. Sissel's boyfriend made cake (before sneaking off to a concert) Kristine and Tomas came over and we ate cake, drank whisky, talked and watched the Eurovision Song Contest. We all were sad when Sweden gave Norway 3 points, zero points is, after all, a classic Norwegian sum.

We also saw Troy. I am speechless and not in a good way. The wrong people dying at strange times? Lamas? Hittittes? Oh, and Patroklos and Akhilleus were cousins, totally cousins. (Liked Hektor though, but then I've always had a crush on Hektor). To drown our sorrow and complaint, we went bar-hopping on Grünerløkka (which at least used to be hip), ending up somewhere where they played fun 70s disco.

May 17th we watched the parade from Slottsplassen, the royal family waved at us, afterwards we ate too much ice cream. Of course the parade in Oslo is all wrong, just schoolchildren and marching bands. Here in Bergen all weird associations are in the parade, football-clubs, scouts, dance groups, choirs marching and strolling bands, the martial arts clubs, Henrik's sword fighters and of course the buekorps (strange Bergen-tradition involving schoolchildren wearing uniforms and wooden mock-guns or crossbows marching to the lack of rhythm from a platoon of drummers that annoy decent people by practising at 8am Sunday morning in springtime).

But now I'm back in Bergen. Back in 6°C and steady, pouring rain; and I think it's beautiful, the green, green hillsides and the grey rolling skies over them and the clear, fresh smell of spring. And if that is what less than a week away from Bergen does to me I wonder what I would be like if I was away for a month.

Merete has been visiting this last week, it's been great, I've missed her, so there has been lots of hanging out and beers in the middle of the day, and discussions of grammatical minutiae, and Cornelius Agrippa (who's the subject of Merete's thesis - even though he's "modern").

Today I met my former fellow student, Lene, who's working 50% as a secretary at the institute, (amazing - 7 years of studies for that!), and we had coffee together. Do you know; with some people you only have a set of topics to talk about. So we talked about the usual; Latin and politics. Perhaps I should take up politics? I can make it just in time for the elections in September? And if I'm lucky I'll have work till I'm 80, just like Shimon Peres! (Since becoming a Pope isn't possible, even though I'm a Mama - all right, that's funnier in Norwegian).

Sissel is comming from Oslo tomorrow, but she's going to stay at Lene and her family (they even have a guest-room!). We've come to realize that letting Kardia mou (mas perhaps) fix us a place to stay was a bit hasty, since he is working on a different finacial basis than us; I don't think £50 is particularly" cheap", all we need is somewhere to sleep. Preferably with seperate blankets, access to a shower and without cockroaches. Well, we have a room for the first night at least, we can look around.

Oh, and happy news, I found a book of Glenn Miller-songs in a junk-shop. I'm memorizing lyrics like mad. I like memorizing. The brain can never be stuffed too full of funny knowledge to entertain people with.

The great calm has come over me. The great calm usually comes a week before exam when I resign and know that there is no way in Hell I can learn everything I ought to know in the time I have left. Sometimes being calm worries me, I ought to be manic, but being calm feels so much better.

At this point I ought to say I love my friends since they now all are
a) proofreading
b) calling me in the morning to wake me up
c) call me in the middle of the day to remind me to eat
d) call me in the evening to invite me for dinner (because I don't remember to eat anyway)
e) invite me over for mindless chatter and/or Buffy and Star Trek
f) drag me out of the house for a quick cup of coffee and a walk in the park

Updating and commenting might get a bit random in the next three weeks, but that is just a good sign, right? Right.

Merete dropped by for our Saturday session of tea, kanji and a discussion of the most vicious of crosswords known to Norwegians. She's changed her mind of what to write about on her MA, originally she thought of something about conjunctive in Latin, but how she has totally refocused. She's amazing like that. She is as much as a scatterbrain as I am, but where I always pursue more than one interest, and always looking for something else, she pursues her chosen object most single-mindedly, never thinking about anything else until she tires of it, not because something else is new and shiny, like me.

I'm lethargic, just want to sleep and sleep and sleep.
Think I need to get out more.

My Kardiaki has sent me a postcard from Amsterdam where he's on some kind of Classics-convention (he never told and I forgot to ask). Anyway, It's a nice postcard with a picture from Fellini's Roma (slave woman bathing her mistress). He writes:

Brief summing up:
1) The wealth of the Netherlands is based on commerce. Suitcases from every corner of the world is sent to Schiphol, where the contents are sold on an Dutchs only auction. (*both mine and Kardiaki's suitcases have been repeatedly "lost" at Schiphol.)
2) The profits goes to home decorating, beer, hash and cinnamon liqueur.
...
7) All beer is women's beer. (Thin as piss.)

It was all like we had expected; the closest thing to a fairytale wedding. Hege's dress was quite lovely, but she had some problems with going through doors... Steinar was sweet and shy and both where very much in love. He made a lengthy but good speech.

Almost all the speeches covered the Love Story of Hege & Steinar. Hege moved to Oslo two years ago, looking at the net for a place to live she found Steinar who wanted to share his appartment with someone. She moved in, frantic e-mailing to us here i Bergen "Is it wrong to fall in love with him?" After less than two months the wheren't just flatmates but living together. (which in Norwegian is the same word - samboer cohabitant). Then they bought the house on Kløfta, and now they're married, no one is very shocked by that.

My Favourite part of the evening was when Steinar's family had made a song-quiz-singing game. They had found music through the different periods of Steinar's (and the rest of us 70's children) life, playing, and we were to guess, correct a point to the Happy Couple. In between we sang some popular songs, accompanied my Stainar's uncle on the piano; Take on Me, Moonlight Shadow, Forelska i Lærer'n and not the least The Final Countdown. Our little corner totally had control over everything 80's, and mostly Steinar's friends the early 90's. We are now planning a new 80's party. It was nice catching up with some of the old crowd (we all started Uni together eight years ago.) And then there was cakes (whoho!) and the infamous American decoration that was slightly tacky and totally inedible and fit right in the Dream Wedding as on romantic films concept. And dancing (whee!) 70's & 80's disco and me in the middle of the dancing floor. And of course Torbjørn's and mine appointment with the cognac bottle, we ended up, not sitting in a corner, but on a small balcony with a cardboard palé in the background. It suited my quite exhibitionistic nature.

All in all it was a very nice wedding, and I hope the newlywed have recuperated. I guess they fell into bed and slept like children all night, after all it was a long day.

Oh, and I've invited myself to visit Anne Hege & Åge in London when I'm going to England in December. (Oh, cunning...)