Norwegian impressions of Berkeley

When I first came to Berkeley six weeks ago, I felt accepted at once. Not because of something I did or said, but simply by being ME. Nobody cares how you dress, how you act, Americans here are all crazy anyway! The diversity of people, I love it. As Professor Petersen said when I first met him: “You’re not here to learn, you’re here to develop yourself!” And as a Norwegian, I actually find it challenging to be and develop myself. In the culture I grew up in, I learned that “You shall not believe that you are somebody, you shall not believe you’re more worthy than us, you shall not believe that you are better than us”. These are some of the sentences in the so-called Law of Jante (“janteloven”) that pervade every part of the Norwegian society. In contrast, Emerson writes “ …the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude” and “I must be myself”.

Hence, I need to think less about “the others” and more about myself, and Berkeley is a good place to do this. But I don´t think I will ever be able to be as individualistic as Americans are. Nor do I want to. Fischer claimed in the lecture that individualism is not selfishness. But I can´t help thinking, isn´t the difference between self-interest and selfishness a small one? Can´t self-interest easily become selfishness? Maybe the different American grassroots organizations that Fischer talked about are keeping Americans loyal to others in addition to themselves, and hence decreasing the degree of selfishness in the American society. I´ve always been surprised about how patriotic Americans are: the talk in media about how good the US is, the amount of American flags hanging on peoples´ houses. It seems like people of all colors and different ethnicities share a feeling of being “American.”

Norwegians should take more risks to go against the mainstream and not be so afraid of social sanctions. People are unique individuals with different qualities that ought to be explored. Meanwhile Americans could benefit from being a little more humble.

Muir Woods Mysticism

A fantastic weekend of redwoods, red wine (lemonade for me) and poker...

Day Eight: Las Vegas to Berkeley, CA. 560 miles.

We made it!!!!!

Day Seven: Grand Canyon to Las Vegas. 120 miles.

"The Lord Jesus shall be revealed in flaming fire, taking vengeance on those who do not follow His Word and do not obey the gospel."

This proclaimed on a ten-foot sign held up by a wild-eyed disheveled woman with long black hair in the middle of the madness on Fremont St. in Vegas. Then the world´s largest TV - three city blocks long - ignited above our heads with dancing showgirls and huge rolling dice, the hourly promo show on the roof of the strip. Overwhelmed by our first encounter with Lost Wages and its lost souls, coming from the sanctity of the Grand Canyon to this orgy of indulgence and desperation. We stuck to our hotel, the Lady Luck, and gambled slightly, she on 5 cent slot mahcines and me at blackjack.

Day Six: Zion to Grand Canyon. 126 miles.

Our first camping meal: the return of Thick Nutty Stew from the AT (oatmeal and grape nuts). Our first hike in Zion to Weeping Rock, then to Hidden Canyon - very steep, didn´t go all the way because baby afraid of heights. Saw lizards, hummingbirds, black and yellow striped dragonfly and blue dragonfly, and a small frog which din´t interest the baby. Hiked to Emerald Pools. At 2:30pm we left for Grand Canyon. Tired we stopped, tried to sleep in the car and drank coffee instead. Got pulled over by a Mormon policeman because of my (Anette´s) bad eyesight. (We pulled over to take a picture of the Welcome to Arizona sign but apparently weren´t far enough off the road). Lots of lightning and fat, big raindrops fell down on us. Clouds draped like curtains. Saw a family of wild turkeys and three deer on the Kaibab Plateau approaching Grand Canyon. Surprised at the beautiful forest of Ponderosa Pine and meadows at 8827 ft.

Set up camp under tall pines and went for a walk along Bright Angel Trail. Anette led the way as we clambered down the cliff´s edge for our first view of the Grand Canyon. Watched lightning on the other side of the canyon and a beautiful sunset over millions of years of layered rock. Suddenly, a swoosh of wings and turned to see a raven just alighted on our rocky outcrop to drink from a puddle in the rock. Surely a benign omen, and we saw 5 deer at dusk walking back to our tent. Made a campfire and cooked baby´s first mac´n´cheese. Then came baby´s first s´mores, which she loved. She also loved killing marshmallows in the fire med en seksårings glede. Då sov me.

Drove to Pt. Imperial in the morning and enjoyed fantastic views from a ridgeline hike. Heard hawks screaming and caught them in my binoculars. Hummingbirds flitting thru red, purple, yellow flower meadows and white and black trunks of burnt forest.

Day Five: Boulder to Zion. 642 miles.

Rocky Mountain majesty. Unbelievable tabletop cliffs pouring themselves flat onto the mesa. Arboreal green and wet to dry brown to orange. Blue Angels at Grand Junction, CO, chasing each other in the enormous sky. Take´n´bake pizza - no wonder it´s only $5, they don´t cook it for you!! Utah=Mormons=scary?? Providence: Not Rhode Island, the big ol´lighthouse on 15S. Sunset entering Zion, the most awe-inspiring I´ve ever seen. Stayed the night at Watchman campground. Windy.

Day Four: Layover in Boulder with Bree and Ashleigh.

Went out to Mountain Sun last night, the stereotypical hippie restaurant in the crunchiest town of them all. Then Bree gave us a priavte flamenco concert as I played guitar and he sang as only he can in his Spanglish and gave outstanding palmas. This morning drove out past the Flatirons and Flagstaff to Green Mountain. Saw a mule deer on the way up, as well as chipmunks, butterflies and a grouse. Picked raspberries, came back, walked in the rain, then napped. Anette had a little vondt i magen from so much traveling, but better in the afternoon. Went to a Tibetan restaurant then watched the first two episodes of "Six Feet Under." Ladybug earrings and a blue hairclip.

Day Three: Des Moines, IA to Boulder, CO. 686 miles.

Anette´s first time in the tent, unused since the AT in 2000, set up among cornfields at 11pm last night at the Timberline Campground. She was surprised to have a good night´s sleep, as did I, and we were off at 7:30am. Endless cornfields continued into Nebraska, but the western part of that state is devoted to beef cattle and pastures for grazing. It´s real cowboy country, with signs for ols Pony Express stations and the Buffalo Bill home/museum. Now we´re ascending the mesa into eastern Colorado, an incredibly beautiful, lonely, barren place. John Wayne should appear at any moment over the next ridge...

Day Two: Sandusky, OH to W. Des Moines, IA. 625 miles.

Rolled thru three states today - Indiana, Illinois and into Iowa. Anette had more bad luck driving on 80W south of Chicago at rush hour when two lanes suddenly split into four, with exits everywhere and people weaving in and out. Once again, she was a rock! Iowa is nothing but cornfields and the smell of cow manure, and at dusk it began raining insects on our windshield. All´s well that ends well. Love to all our relations.

Day One: Red Hook, NY to Sandusky, OH. 562 miles.

Said goodbye to family at noon and started driving. Two crazy confused old women came at us the wrong way on the road somewhere in western Pennsylvania and gave us a scare. But we will always remember western PA as the place Anette drove for the first time in America! On her very first merge, of course, she was up against a charging 18-wheeler that wouldn´t leave the right-hand lane, but she handled it superbly (I was pleasantly surprised at her smooth transition from the small roads of Norway to the madness of our freeways). Ate Chinese food in Youngstown, OH and had breakfast the next morning on the shores of Lake Erie, looking across at Cedar Point.

Ali Sallah and Baboukar...Meridian turns Gambian

Ten days in Senegal and the Gambia and my life will never be the same. And all because Ali Sallah, the one and only BIG BOSS, has had the heart to embrace village life and slooow village time for two years now, learn Fula, Wolof and some Mandika, and become Gambian.

First day in Dakar: filth, rot, noise, chaos; a madman drinking water by filling up his cup with water from the blackened gutter. Two Senegalese men practicing their wrestling, a national pasttime, on the trash-strewn beach used also for sunning, swimming, and football. Drinking ginger juice and a boy hacking open coconuts in his hands with the deftness off a violin virtuoso. The gorgeous day-glo elegant colors of flowing African clothing. Alhamdoulilahi buses and cramming long legs into tiny broken seats of broken-down cars.

Kaolack, Senegal, the saddest, most desperately dirty town in the world, where all the people have dark brown teeth from drinking the putrid water. Burning trash, open sewers, the smell almost making me vomit but they don´t even notice cuz that´s where they grew up. Let us never speak of "developing countries" again, for it is a cruel euphemism at best. Jake and I decided upon a new term - ICOs: Impoverished Cesspools of Opression. Impermissible that people live like this.

Finally away from the cities and into the bush and Jake´s village, Sare Sofi. I bought a goat to show my thanks to the village for hosting me, and I almost fainted as I watched it being butchered. Jake didn´t flinch. He held the intestines with gusto. African food bowls, all the men eating first, squatting, dipping in with the right hand only. Rice, rice, and more rice. Peanut sauce, peanut sauce, and more peanut sauce. I was sick of it after three days. Jake still loves it after two years, but he relishes meat, fruit, and greens when he gets the chance.

Swimming in the Gambia river at night, lightning and stars in the sky. Chasing baboons through the bush with Ali´s brothers. Walking the 9km from the village to the road and stopping to see a renowned fiddler. It began with just the 3 of us, but one by one the women and children stopped their work and entered the hut, stooping under the four-foot high door. The light steadily diminished and the heat and dust inside the hut grew by the minute until it soon felt like midnight, and we were a tribe of revelers carrying on late into the night. El duende aparecio as we formed a ring around the fiddler, the clapping intensified, and the dancers entered the ring encouraged by the jaleos of the others. Eventually the Mantis appeared, and it was on. The Mariachi song was played to delight of the villagers.

SKOOL

I'm using words so the tears don't flow from my eyes...I just decided to change my lesson plan 2 minutes before class...I was going to show a video cuz it's the last day before break, but i wanted more...I told them to write silently for 10 min. on the Red Lake shootings, and the suicide in our school last week. They wrote, and what followed has my hands shaking as I write this...BREAK

In the middle of that last sentence one of my students who experienced our incredible discussion came to me, head down, unsure, seeking...and because of him I stopped writing and started listening, again...

He told me of being jumped in an alley and getting a gun pulled on him, about how his real father didn't want him and beat his mother, but how he's trying to focus now and do right so he can go to college or do something productive with his life. He wants to help people, but said sometimes he feels like he can't make it cuz he already screwed up. He echoed the stories of the many students who had the courage to share in my classroom. The first girl to break down and cry told of being raped by a family member. This was followed by another girl who had the same story, had no mother and father, had been locked up for selling crack. Then another girl, beautiful and successful to all appearances, broke down and told the same sad story. A couple of guys, the cool ones, aloof, had the courage to share aswell. One is taking care of three kids at home - no mother, no father,working to pay the rent and going to high school. And we expect him to worry about how to conjugate "ser" into the present tense? Another of my young men shared about his father and his uncle going to jail - still there - and then asked the class in the most poignant tone, " Do you think God would forgive someone for selling drugs?"

I listened and I listened, moving around the room at times to changethe energy, always trying to be attentive, thinking very much about what sticks with me most from the book "Teacher" - how well he listened. We could have gone on much longer than the bell, but I got up at the end of class and said how grateful I was to them for their courage and honesty, and how I would never forget this, never forget them, that I love each and every one of them, that I expect them all to go to college and open the doors to their own freedom, and that if they ever need to talk, they could come to me. And we all clapped for each other, and the girls stayed afterwards hugging each other and crying with the girl who had revealed her darkest secrets, her most burning pain, possibly for the first time.

So here I am writing while my 8th period class is raucous infront of me, lights out, movie on, because they couldn't sustain the same level of maturity when we tried to discuss the same issues. Such is the fleeting nature of the teenage attention span. The door to stillness and mutual respect seems magical to me - it opens sometimes by itself (I steer gently at times) but it can close without warning,leaving me powerless to open it again. And that's OK, because this is Upper Marlboro, Maryland, March 23 2005, and someone just pulled the fire alarm.

SMCM SWIMMING

Klose Named SMCM Athlete of the Month

Men’s Swimmer Honored For Record-Breaking Performances In Month of February

St. Mary’s City, Md. -- Alexander Klose has been selected as the St. Mary’s College of Maryland Athlete of the Month for February of 2002. Klose, a sophomore from Bethesda, Maryland, helped the men’s swim team to a second-place finish at the Capital Athletic Conference (CAC) swimming championships held February 15-17, at Mary Washington College. It is the highest finish ever for a St. Mary’s team at the CAC swimming championships.At the championships, Klose set two individual school records and was part of a relay team that also set a school record.

In the 100 breaststroke, Klose claimed his first CAC individual title, finishing with a time of 0:59.29, setting a new school record in the process. He just missed out on an NCAA national cut time by one tenth of a second.Klose claimed his second CAC individual title in the 200 breaststroke, finishing with a time of 2:10.07, also good enough for a new school record. He missed the NCAA national cut time by just seven one-hundredths of a second. As a member of the 200 medley relay, Klose set a third school record at the championships by helping the team finish in 1:39.33, which was good for second place behind only Mary Washington in the relay. As a team, the St. Mary’s College men’s swimming program finished the season with a dual meet record of 5-3 overall and 4-3 in the CAC. The team achieved their highest-ever finish at the CAC championships, finishing with 312 points, good for second place behind conference champion, Mary Washington College.