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dragonlady7via http://ift.tt/2muEoLZ:
I actually have some Norwegian relatives so I know more about Norwegian than your average American (probably not counting the population of Minnesota in that “average” tbh, I can’t fux with Lake Wobegon) but I did not know what magpies were called despite having seen and photographed and discussed one the last time I was there. I did ask what they’re called, and I’m sure I was given an answer, but– Unfortunately, see, my Norwegian relatives are from Bergen, so they don’t speak cute Movie Norwegian with the great rising and falling tones and nice bright vowels, where you have some kind of fighting chance of knowing what’s going on, but instead a kind of Super Goth Kind Of Angry Slurred Germanish Noise that involves their mouths not really opening much, so I’ve little hope of picking any up. I have tried, but it never went very well.
(I kid, I love Bergen, I’ve only been twice and it rained a lot both times of course but I quite enjoyed it regardless.)
I feel like I should find my Most Norwegian Photo from the last time I was there, just to round this out. I’m torn between the rain-soaked wedding party, the photo of us all waiting for a ferry at 11:45pm with the sun not down yet (hot-cha! summertime!) or, heck, my cousin’s cousin in her bunad at the wedding we were there for (our mutual cousin) giving me this Look just as her father (left) asked my father (right, gesturing) “So what’s the deal with this Tea Party?”
(It was 2015. I shudder to think what they’d discuss now. Apparently the two of them had spent hours arguing in 1975 when my father’s sister ran off to Norway and married a Norwegian and my dad was the only brother who could make the wedding, so they were delighted to get to resume it on this occasion.)
I actually have some Norwegian relatives so I know more about Norwegian than your average American (probably not counting the population of Minnesota in that “average” tbh, I can’t fux with Lake Wobegon) but I did not know what magpies were called despite having seen and photographed and discussed one the last time I was there. I did ask what they’re called, and I’m sure I was given an answer, but– Unfortunately, see, my Norwegian relatives are from Bergen, so they don’t speak cute Movie Norwegian with the great rising and falling tones and nice bright vowels, where you have some kind of fighting chance of knowing what’s going on, but instead a kind of Super Goth Kind Of Angry Slurred Germanish Noise that involves their mouths not really opening much, so I’ve little hope of picking any up. I have tried, but it never went very well.
(I kid, I love Bergen, I’ve only been twice and it rained a lot both times of course but I quite enjoyed it regardless.)
I feel like I should find my Most Norwegian Photo from the last time I was there, just to round this out. I’m torn between the rain-soaked wedding party, the photo of us all waiting for a ferry at 11:45pm with the sun not down yet (hot-cha! summertime!) or, heck, my cousin’s cousin in her bunad at the wedding we were there for (our mutual cousin) giving me this Look just as her father (left) asked my father (right, gesturing) “So what’s the deal with this Tea Party?”
(It was 2015. I shudder to think what they’d discuss now. Apparently the two of them had spent hours arguing in 1975 when my father’s sister ran off to Norway and married a Norwegian and my dad was the only brother who could make the wedding, so they were delighted to get to resume it on this occasion.)
