Is there a good time to be unromantic when it comes to weddings? How do you separate thinking with your head or your heart and is one more important than the other?
As women we're taught (at least in America) that our wedding day is the most important day of our lives. We're also tricked into believing that we really 'need' certain things to make this day perfect - that includes the perfect dress, the perfect hair, the perfect venue, the perfect shoes...the list is endless but not necessarily part of reality. I suppose it actually depends on the reality in which you live, and they way you perceive your big day to mesh with real life.
I think this is where I get confused.
What is 'real life' right now? What's most important right now? Currently, I'm planning a wedding. An international wedding. In addition, I'm also planning a big move. A big international move. The logistics of the two is making my eyebrows furrow in annoyance.
Here's why:
Weeks after the wedding I will be moving overseas.
With a wedding (my wedding, specifically) comes a name change which accompanies lots of paperwork and time given for bureaucratic nonsense.
Since I will be moving overseas, I will need an updated passport, a matching social security card and driver's license, plus name change documents and a slue of other things. All of these things take time to get, and require a marriage (or A LOT of money that I refuse to spend) in order to kick start the process.
We have a grand total of 3 weeks between the wedding day and the moving day. Definitely not enough time for any of that before we go.
There might be a solution, however.
A visit from my sweetheart in April provides us with ample time for..............get ready for it.........a civil ceremony. By having a civil ceremony in April, we could have ALL of that paperwork completed by the time we have the church wedding, and maybe even get the visa paperwork started in Norway.
I despise how logical this is.
The words "logical" and "wedding" just don't go together! (I'm a little sad that I actually wrote that because of how silly it sounds, but it's true!!) As a woman that grew up in America, it's almost justifiable to say that when it comes to weddings, you throw logic out the window. I mean, check this out:
Where's the logic in spending thousands and thousands of dollars on ONE day when you are planning on having a whole LIFETIME with the person you're celebrating with? That money could be spent on much more appropriate things!
See? Logic disappeared long ago but is suddenly rearing it's ugly head into my life. I don't know whether to welcome it or climb up the tallest building and throw it off the rooftop never to be seen again.
I want the day I planned to get married in my white dress to be the day I get married, not any other day. I want to look stunning and I want everyone else that comes to witness the event look fantastic as well. I want to eat cake and I want to dance and I want to drink champagne with everyone that came to share in the day.I want to sign my marriage license looking my best with my new husband and I want someone to take a picture of it all so we remember even when we're old.
But I also want my life after to be a little easier. I want some of the steps of this journey to be behind me so I don't have to stress so much over paperwork, finding a job, learning a new language, assimilating to a different culture, dealing with the police, and figuring out how to get my visa processed. I want some of the weight off my shoulders and some of the pressure out of the situation - and the way to do that is the civil ceremony.
You know, it's funny. Writing the paragraph about what I wanted on my wedding day got me giddy and excited. The paragraph after, the one about the civil ceremony, made me...kinda sad! I guess I feel that the civil ceremony would really take the excitement out of the big day. To use my dad's word: "anti-climatic". Spot on. I might also add "unromantic" to the list. The thing is - the big church wedding will be great no matter what, but I feel like some of the pizazz will be taken away from it.
It comes down to head v. heart/ logic v. emotion.
How do I choose?!!
What would you do if it were you?
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Learning How (Not) To Cry
I wrote the majority of this during my most recent trip to Norway. It was 3 a.m. and I couldn't sleep. I got an itch to write and it needed to be scratched. So I wrote in the dark under a big blanket that was keeping the warm in and the cold out.
In a smallish nutshell, I'm going tell you why I cried in Norway. Exciting, right? Maybe not, but I certainly learned a lesson I think is worth sharing.
I arrived in Bergen and it happened just the way it usually does: I happily get off the plane, I happily wait for my luggage (and chuckle to myself about someone's bra that has mysteriously escaped her suitcase en route) I happily collect it, and then I happily walk through the arrivals gate and spot Stian instantly. The craving for his hug and kiss is unbearable and it takes everything within in me not to ditch my luggage and run full speed into his arms (ditching luggage and leaving it unattended is highly frowned upon at any airport, fyi). After our mini reunion, we head for the parking structure.
I knew before arriving that it would be cold (it's Norway at the end of December, of course), and when I was flying over the country it seemed there was a large, white blanket smothering everything. It was simply white all over. I felt a chill just looking out the window. So when Stian and I set foot outside, the reality of the cold slapped me in the face. Almost literally...it sort of takes your breath away. I immediately had a goal: get to the freaking car and get the hell in. For your information, I achieved that goal and let Stian worry about the details (after all, he was used the cold, right?) of putting away the luggage. Once the heat got going and the seat warmers warmed my chilly rump, I felt great!
That is, until we got to Voss. It was here that we had a short pit stop in our 3.5 hour journey to his parents' house to get some hot dogs. It was -25 C, which translates to approximately -17 F. Yikes. My nose hairs crystallized instantly upon going outside - again my goal soon became 'get the hell back in the car.' We got back on the road and eventually made it to our destination. Upon arriving we had dinner, family time, and I even got to open some belated Christmas presents! I got lots of wool clothes which came in incredibly handy for this outrageously cold weather.
Since it was the holiday's, we had a handful of parties to attend and social things to do. This was great news because I love parties! Sadly, these parties are part of what leads to the crying...but I'll get to that (and to answer any lingering questions: no, I did not cry because I drank too much. Just so you know.). I'll explain each situation separately:
Scenario #1. Movie night turns game night. Scrabble. Norwegian Scrabble. Uh Oh. I tried to pay attention at first, but my attention span for listening to something I simply do not understand lasts for approximately 15 minutes at most. All the people that were there are lovely, lovely people, but being the only English-as-first-language speaker in the room, the conversations were predominately in Norwegian and thus, I could not participate in the game, nor the majority of the conversation. So, there I was, sittin' on the couch looking at my socks. Luckily, Stian's adorable 5 week old niece was there, so I was able to distract myself a bit with a baby. That worked until she got hungry, then it was back to the socks. Who makes socks, anyway? And how exactly? It's still a mystery. Needless to say, that I night before I fell asleep, I cried. I cried because usually I have absolutely no problems mingling at parties and social gatherings. It's never been an issue, but that night it was. I cried because I felt boring and unreachable. I cried because I simply have not learned enough Norwegian to have a conversation, and I cried because I've become impatient learning and waiting for my mind to process a new language and a new culture.
Scenario #2. More parties. I was apprehensive going because of all the feelings associated with the previous crying and I didn't want to be put in that situation again. However, I went because I'm headstrong and I try and try again. I found a spot on the couch with a hefty glass of wine in hand, and I immediately found my socks. Actually, these were tights, but I guess that's not important.... Half way through my first glass I thought to myself: "what the heck are you doing! just talk to people. they'll talk back!! grow some cajones, and let's do this." So I did. I talked and I connected and then I talked to some others and connected some more, and then the party moved locations entirely. I talked to some more people and went home very happy. So, there it is ladies and gentlemen, I taught myself how NOT to cry even when I'm staring at my socks and feeling sorry for myself.
Scenario #3. Snowboarding. Oy. So let me preface this scenario by saying that I've been snowboarding many-a-time, but whatever experience I've previously had made absolutely no difference to how this night was going to go. So here was the problem: the lift. Essentially, it is a pole with a tiny seat (smaller than a frisbee). There's a 'trip' sensor that tells the whole lift to begin moving when you're "ready" (after you pass the trip thing). You put the pole between your legs, you trip the sensor, and it jerks into motion pulling you up the hill. Oh yeah, and your feet stay on the ground while you're supposed to lean back onto the "seat" and hold on as you go up. I had heard rumors from some locals about this bewildering thing, but was by no means prepared to use it. So I attempted it, and was thrown forward onto my rear end. Damn. Well, get up and try again. Same outcome. Damn! I tried again and, you can probably guess, I fell a third time.
A man from the lift came over, found out I was American, laughed, and sent me to the kiddie slopes. I could have punched his round, grinning face...but I knew he was right. So with my tail between my legs, I tried the lift with the 4 year olds. I fell 5, count 'em!, 5 times off the kiddie lift. The children laughed and I grew frustrated. I got very determined and decided I WAS going to do this. So....I did. A few times in fact, and it was blissful to ride down the slopes to get some cool wind on my face. So, still determined, we got back in line with the big kids. The whole time in line I kept telling Stian to tell me that I could do it and wish me luck. I was absolutely going to make it on that damn lift. I held on for dear life and made it past the first 50 feet, then up the slope, and up, up, up, some more! I was victorious!!! Ahh it felt so good. We were going to get off at the top, but as the slope gets steeper, the lift moves a bit faster, and I actually fell off (not by choice, mind you) not far from our destination. We had to go through the woods to get back to the trail, through powder that was amazingly deep. The first time I fell in the powder, I could not even find my board it was buried so deep (this actually amazed me because I figured that if it was connected to my feet, it's GOT to be down there somewhere). After that minor fiasco and a few others like it, I eventually took off my board and waded through snow up to my knee or lower thigh to get back to the trail. We finally made it to the bottom. Time to get back in line.
To make a longer story longer, I couldn't get on that stupid lift again. After plenty of attempts, we gave up and went back to the kiddie slopes. On the way up, I cried. Getting off and sitting at the top of the hill with a perfect view of the other "big kid" lift also made me cry. I was mad at myself. I was disappointed in myself. I was annoyed and my butt hurt A LOT (the last attempt on the big lift threw me on my rump SO hard!) and all of that made me cry. I was done. It was time to call it a day.
My personal response to being frustrated with myself is to cry. It's an annoying girl thing to do, I know, but that's just how I am. I get frustrated that I can't learn a new language fast enough and I cry. I get frustrated that I can't get on lift at a ski resort, so I cry. I don't typically make a big show about it, but the tears are definitely rolling down my cheeks accompanied by the sniffles. The thing is, when this happens, I'm just mad at myself. I'm mad that I can't make myself do something that I want to do. I'm mad that I tried, and failed. I'm mad that this is a regular occurrence in my life right now - this trying/failing/crying thing - it gets old! I don't want to be this way, I certainly didn't choose it, but it's how I am and I think it's a perfectly reasonable reaction. Crying helps me let go of the current problem, and prepare to try again. The cycle may seem endless, but I will continue to try, to fail, to cry, (lather, rinse, and repeat) until I succeed. Having said all that, I have to give myself a pat on the back for trying. And for trying lots of new things all at once (new country, new culture, new family, new friends, new language, new ski lift). It's not easy. As one of my good friend's told me once "if it were easy, everyone would do it." Well said, friend!
So, lessons I've learned:
1. I'm a crier and probably will be for the rest of my life (or at least as long as I continue to try new things). I'm okay with that I guess.
2. I need to learn some more Norwegian vocabulary for the next Scrabble night.
3. Stian and I need to purchase Norwegian Scrabble for our house because it would be a good learning tool.
4. I start feeling sorry for myself when I stare at my socks, so I better get some neat ones.
5. I need to be patient at social gatherings; it helps to bring wine and/or beer.
6. About the lift, I have no comment as of yet. Perhaps they should get a chair lift instead, it would be incredibly more efficient for the public in general.
In a smallish nutshell, I'm going tell you why I cried in Norway. Exciting, right? Maybe not, but I certainly learned a lesson I think is worth sharing.
I arrived in Bergen and it happened just the way it usually does: I happily get off the plane, I happily wait for my luggage (and chuckle to myself about someone's bra that has mysteriously escaped her suitcase en route) I happily collect it, and then I happily walk through the arrivals gate and spot Stian instantly. The craving for his hug and kiss is unbearable and it takes everything within in me not to ditch my luggage and run full speed into his arms (ditching luggage and leaving it unattended is highly frowned upon at any airport, fyi). After our mini reunion, we head for the parking structure.
I knew before arriving that it would be cold (it's Norway at the end of December, of course), and when I was flying over the country it seemed there was a large, white blanket smothering everything. It was simply white all over. I felt a chill just looking out the window. So when Stian and I set foot outside, the reality of the cold slapped me in the face. Almost literally...it sort of takes your breath away. I immediately had a goal: get to the freaking car and get the hell in. For your information, I achieved that goal and let Stian worry about the details (after all, he was used the cold, right?) of putting away the luggage. Once the heat got going and the seat warmers warmed my chilly rump, I felt great!
That is, until we got to Voss. It was here that we had a short pit stop in our 3.5 hour journey to his parents' house to get some hot dogs. It was -25 C, which translates to approximately -17 F. Yikes. My nose hairs crystallized instantly upon going outside - again my goal soon became 'get the hell back in the car.' We got back on the road and eventually made it to our destination. Upon arriving we had dinner, family time, and I even got to open some belated Christmas presents! I got lots of wool clothes which came in incredibly handy for this outrageously cold weather.
Since it was the holiday's, we had a handful of parties to attend and social things to do. This was great news because I love parties! Sadly, these parties are part of what leads to the crying...but I'll get to that (and to answer any lingering questions: no, I did not cry because I drank too much. Just so you know.). I'll explain each situation separately:
Scenario #1. Movie night turns game night. Scrabble. Norwegian Scrabble. Uh Oh. I tried to pay attention at first, but my attention span for listening to something I simply do not understand lasts for approximately 15 minutes at most. All the people that were there are lovely, lovely people, but being the only English-as-first-language speaker in the room, the conversations were predominately in Norwegian and thus, I could not participate in the game, nor the majority of the conversation. So, there I was, sittin' on the couch looking at my socks. Luckily, Stian's adorable 5 week old niece was there, so I was able to distract myself a bit with a baby. That worked until she got hungry, then it was back to the socks. Who makes socks, anyway? And how exactly? It's still a mystery. Needless to say, that I night before I fell asleep, I cried. I cried because usually I have absolutely no problems mingling at parties and social gatherings. It's never been an issue, but that night it was. I cried because I felt boring and unreachable. I cried because I simply have not learned enough Norwegian to have a conversation, and I cried because I've become impatient learning and waiting for my mind to process a new language and a new culture.
Scenario #2. More parties. I was apprehensive going because of all the feelings associated with the previous crying and I didn't want to be put in that situation again. However, I went because I'm headstrong and I try and try again. I found a spot on the couch with a hefty glass of wine in hand, and I immediately found my socks. Actually, these were tights, but I guess that's not important.... Half way through my first glass I thought to myself: "what the heck are you doing! just talk to people. they'll talk back!! grow some cajones, and let's do this." So I did. I talked and I connected and then I talked to some others and connected some more, and then the party moved locations entirely. I talked to some more people and went home very happy. So, there it is ladies and gentlemen, I taught myself how NOT to cry even when I'm staring at my socks and feeling sorry for myself.
Scenario #3. Snowboarding. Oy. So let me preface this scenario by saying that I've been snowboarding many-a-time, but whatever experience I've previously had made absolutely no difference to how this night was going to go. So here was the problem: the lift. Essentially, it is a pole with a tiny seat (smaller than a frisbee). There's a 'trip' sensor that tells the whole lift to begin moving when you're "ready" (after you pass the trip thing). You put the pole between your legs, you trip the sensor, and it jerks into motion pulling you up the hill. Oh yeah, and your feet stay on the ground while you're supposed to lean back onto the "seat" and hold on as you go up. I had heard rumors from some locals about this bewildering thing, but was by no means prepared to use it. So I attempted it, and was thrown forward onto my rear end. Damn. Well, get up and try again. Same outcome. Damn! I tried again and, you can probably guess, I fell a third time.
A man from the lift came over, found out I was American, laughed, and sent me to the kiddie slopes. I could have punched his round, grinning face...but I knew he was right. So with my tail between my legs, I tried the lift with the 4 year olds. I fell 5, count 'em!, 5 times off the kiddie lift. The children laughed and I grew frustrated. I got very determined and decided I WAS going to do this. So....I did. A few times in fact, and it was blissful to ride down the slopes to get some cool wind on my face. So, still determined, we got back in line with the big kids. The whole time in line I kept telling Stian to tell me that I could do it and wish me luck. I was absolutely going to make it on that damn lift. I held on for dear life and made it past the first 50 feet, then up the slope, and up, up, up, some more! I was victorious!!! Ahh it felt so good. We were going to get off at the top, but as the slope gets steeper, the lift moves a bit faster, and I actually fell off (not by choice, mind you) not far from our destination. We had to go through the woods to get back to the trail, through powder that was amazingly deep. The first time I fell in the powder, I could not even find my board it was buried so deep (this actually amazed me because I figured that if it was connected to my feet, it's GOT to be down there somewhere). After that minor fiasco and a few others like it, I eventually took off my board and waded through snow up to my knee or lower thigh to get back to the trail. We finally made it to the bottom. Time to get back in line.
To make a longer story longer, I couldn't get on that stupid lift again. After plenty of attempts, we gave up and went back to the kiddie slopes. On the way up, I cried. Getting off and sitting at the top of the hill with a perfect view of the other "big kid" lift also made me cry. I was mad at myself. I was disappointed in myself. I was annoyed and my butt hurt A LOT (the last attempt on the big lift threw me on my rump SO hard!) and all of that made me cry. I was done. It was time to call it a day.
My personal response to being frustrated with myself is to cry. It's an annoying girl thing to do, I know, but that's just how I am. I get frustrated that I can't learn a new language fast enough and I cry. I get frustrated that I can't get on lift at a ski resort, so I cry. I don't typically make a big show about it, but the tears are definitely rolling down my cheeks accompanied by the sniffles. The thing is, when this happens, I'm just mad at myself. I'm mad that I can't make myself do something that I want to do. I'm mad that I tried, and failed. I'm mad that this is a regular occurrence in my life right now - this trying/failing/crying thing - it gets old! I don't want to be this way, I certainly didn't choose it, but it's how I am and I think it's a perfectly reasonable reaction. Crying helps me let go of the current problem, and prepare to try again. The cycle may seem endless, but I will continue to try, to fail, to cry, (lather, rinse, and repeat) until I succeed. Having said all that, I have to give myself a pat on the back for trying. And for trying lots of new things all at once (new country, new culture, new family, new friends, new language, new ski lift). It's not easy. As one of my good friend's told me once "if it were easy, everyone would do it." Well said, friend!
So, lessons I've learned:
1. I'm a crier and probably will be for the rest of my life (or at least as long as I continue to try new things). I'm okay with that I guess.
2. I need to learn some more Norwegian vocabulary for the next Scrabble night.
3. Stian and I need to purchase Norwegian Scrabble for our house because it would be a good learning tool.
4. I start feeling sorry for myself when I stare at my socks, so I better get some neat ones.
5. I need to be patient at social gatherings; it helps to bring wine and/or beer.
6. About the lift, I have no comment as of yet. Perhaps they should get a chair lift instead, it would be incredibly more efficient for the public in general.
Monday, November 15, 2010
A Romantic Rendezvous
The point of this blog is to talk about this path, this wonderful journey, that I'm on. I feel that the past 4 days have been an important part of this journey, and I want to share it with you. Or maybe I just want to share about our fabulously touristy trip. Either way, enjoy.
In a nutshell, long distance relationships are hard. But we all knew that already, didn't we? Technology has definitely made it easier, and quite frankly, I doubt Stian and I could would be able to make it without Skype, being able to text internationally (thanks parents for helping with the bill....and okay you do more than "help", but I (and Stian too, of course), appreciate it immensely), and a bit of finagling our daily routines to utilize all our communication possibilities.
Our relationship has basically been a sum of visits every 3 to 5 months: very happy hellos, lots of fun followed by incredibly sad goodbyes, and not knowing when the next time we would see each other again. I also want to point out that I think dating someone overseas is probably the most expensive relationship you can ever fall into. I realize it doesn't sound so positive, and you might ask why either of us would bother. Truthfully, I think Stian and I have questioned that ourselves, but what kept us going was how great we were (and are!) when we're together. We just work: we "get" each other - we laugh, we have fun, we fight sometimes and then move on to having fun again. Not to mention...we love each other (for those very reasons, perhaps?).
Sometimes I have to backtrack through holidays to know when we saw each other last. I left Norway after a 3 month stay last December (right before Christmas), and then we didn't see each other again until March (right around Easter). During the March visit we figured out that we probably wouldn't see each other until August, but even that was up in the air because of work and school schedules. This would make it at LEAST 5 months between seeing each other and that is simply too long. Unfortunately, we grow restless of Skype, sometimes have nothing to text, and occasionally wish we weren't scheduled to talk to each other at exactly 6:15 in the morning or 10:15 at night. But we persevere and work through the challenges. Living through the 5- months-apart situation made us realize that it should never happen again, and so (ah yes, here is the point!) we scheduled a trip. A "romantic rondevous" if you will, meeting halfway between Norway and California. That put us in approximately Washington D.C. (a much cheaper destination than New York) in November. Instead of 4 months between the August visit and the upcoming Christmas/New Years trip for me to Norway, it was only 3 months. And that leaves a month and a half til we see each other again at the end of December. But that wasn't the happiest part...
We had a WONDERFUL trip! It was refreshing to be a couple again, without the constant family member around (no offense families, we love you dearly, but we don't often get the luxury of getting each other all to ourselves). Not only that, but we both flew between 5-8 hours (rather than the typical 14 - 24, depending on the cheapest flights we could find), to spend a lovely 4 day weekend together.
It's autumn, and the weather was absolutely perfect. For the entire time we were there, it was approximately 57 degrees (Farenheit, of course) and there was not a cloud in the sky. We took in all the tourist attractions and had a good time doing it (very sore and tired feet not included). I have to give details: we went through an underground tunnel to Capitol Hill where we took a tour of the Capitol and got to check out the House of Representatives Chamber (thanks Dad and Jane Harman). After that we walked the entire way to the Washington Monument (it's A LOT farther than it looks!) with a quick detour to pick up a delicious sandwich from the previously unheard of "Potbelly's" (so yummy) to devour later. We shoved the sandwiches in our bag and got moving so that we could take a picture in front of the White House, then walk by the World War II Memorial, past the reflecting pool, and up the stairs of the Lincoln Memorial to do the one thing Stian was really interested in: seeing the "big guy in the chair". We sat on the cold, marble (was it marble?) stairs, took off our shoes to give our aching feet a break, and devoured lunch. Then we headed over to the Vietnam War Memorial and since Veteran's Day had JUST passed, there were interesting things to look at and read. They were giving out papers and crayons to make a "rubbing" of a name you wanted. What a cool idea, and way better than any picture you could take! After a shedding a few unexpected tears, we moved on, desperately looking for a cab to take us back to the hotel: it was time to put up our poor feet!
After a nap and some tv we were ready to go out for dinner. We went to a great little restaurant we had heard about from some local girls the night before, and they were right: it was in the middle of nowhere, but a really great place. Homemade pizza, big glasses of wine, and just a short walk from the hotel was the perfect end to a long, but fun, day.
The next day was busy, too. Stian and I went to the Smithsonian Castle - we previously passed it on our hike to the Washington Monument and overheard a Segway tourguide say that it was the 2nd most visited museum after the Louvre in France. We checked it out and saw a random assortment of things on display (including a brief history of mail in the U.S. and the largest bird-eating tarantula, bleck!). We looked at the gardens and then went over to the Air and Space museum. You should've seen how excited Stian was when we walked in and saw all those spaceships! :) Passing by the IMAX theatre, we thought the 3D movie about the Hubble looked interesting and bought tickets for later (it was great, by the way!! highly recommend it!). We also tried out the simulator area of the museum - locking ourselves into a "fighter plane" and then turned upside down while firing missiles at the enemy was quite the experience.
After a wandering morning at the museum, we walked over to the Old Post Office Building (upon recommendation from Nick in San Diego) and it was really neat! The building was nice, and lent itself as a great place to sit and eat lunch before we headed up the tower for an AMAZING view of Washington D.C. (for free I might add!). When that was done, we tried to catch a cab, and got the greatest cab driver ever!! He was so nice! The plan was to go to the mall near the Pentagon, but we asked if he wouldn't mind stopping at the Arlington National Cemetery for a few minutes while we took a stroll through the beautiful and of course, famous place. It was breathtaking...there were SO many graves! Just rows upon rows of white grave markers. A sign read "Kennedy Memorial This Way" and we went. It was different than any other memorial we had seen, but I liked it.
Keeping an eye on the clock, we briskly walked back to our kind cab drivers car, hopped in and made our way to the mall. Our driver, named Woubi, showed us the Pentagon and pointed out where the plane crashed into it on September 11 - the stone is a slightly different color than the rest of the building. Fun fact, yes?Anyway, he dropped us off at the 4-story, and I must admit, beautiful mall. We shopped (something we love doing together!) and successfully found some winter shoes for us both.
What a day! We made it back to our hotel, found a good movie on HBO, and decided to order in Chinese food from a menu that was shoved under our door that weekend. Sounds great, right? Well, it kind of was...I had be CRAVING Chinese food, but when it arrived, it seemed the noodles in the chow mein had been on the warmer so long during the day they went crispy. I'm pretty sure they just poured sauce on top and then tried to microwave it to make it look fresh. China Express, you got a big fat "F" in the chow mein department, but redeemed yourself with decent meat and good fried rice.
Now, after boring you with many details from my four day weekend, I am approaching the best part. Our last day together consisted of an overpriced breakfast, checking out, and thinking we could waste about 4.5 hours in Starbucks. That got pretty boring pretty fast, and the bathroom there smelled like a homeless person had been living in it. So we went a few doors down to Potbelly's to get some airplane food, sat in a booth and realized we really couldn't sit there for 2.5 more hours, either. Maybe we could take in a movie? Yeah! Great idea!! Sadly, a great idea much too late. To go to the movies, you need to plan ahead. We didn't and that little time killer might get in the way of getting to the airport later. So we started walking down the street with all of our luggage dragging behind us. We saw a sign for the National Gallery of Art and thought maybe, just maybe, they would have a bag check.
They sure did!! We checked our bags and started wandering the gallery of German drawings. It was okay, nothing amazing, but it killed over an hour and we were grateful for that. We headed out again, found a hotdog stand and sat in the sunshine to eat and enjoy each other's company just a little bit more before heading to the airport.
Our cab driver from the day before had offered us a ride to the airport and gave us his phone number. We called, he picked us up at the Gallery, and we went for the most beautiful drive. This was one of my favorite parts. The colors of autumn in D.C. are lovely and vibrant. All weekend I was commenting on how beautiful the trees were - yellows, oranges, and wonderful reds and greens. Ahhh, so lovely. As we drove, we actually got stuck in a bit of traffic and a group of 3 girls were trying to catch falling leaves. Those leaves were falling EVERYWHERE!! There was a little breeze and they were just...raining down so quietly. I wanted to jump out of the car and catch a few myself. We eventually made it to George Washington Parkway...the funny thing was, our driver was really into rock and roll, but on this part of the road, he switched it to wordless music. I believe it was intentional, to leave us (and him) alone with our thoughts as we took in the scenery. I even pulled out my camera and took a video of it because I thought it was so...lovely. That's all I can say to describe it. I was sitting in the backseat holding Stian's hand watching the sun go through all the autumn colors still on the trees, and all I could think of was that it was a perfect way to end a perfect weekend.
As a bonus, the airport didn't have separate terminals/security/closed gates so Stian and I could wander around together, play cards and kiss goodbye right before he handed over his boarding pass to get on the plane. That never happens...and it probably never will again. What a special trip!
It wasn't a sad goodbye; not this time. :)
In a nutshell, long distance relationships are hard. But we all knew that already, didn't we? Technology has definitely made it easier, and quite frankly, I doubt Stian and I could would be able to make it without Skype, being able to text internationally (thanks parents for helping with the bill....and okay you do more than "help", but I (and Stian too, of course), appreciate it immensely), and a bit of finagling our daily routines to utilize all our communication possibilities.
Our relationship has basically been a sum of visits every 3 to 5 months: very happy hellos, lots of fun followed by incredibly sad goodbyes, and not knowing when the next time we would see each other again. I also want to point out that I think dating someone overseas is probably the most expensive relationship you can ever fall into. I realize it doesn't sound so positive, and you might ask why either of us would bother. Truthfully, I think Stian and I have questioned that ourselves, but what kept us going was how great we were (and are!) when we're together. We just work: we "get" each other - we laugh, we have fun, we fight sometimes and then move on to having fun again. Not to mention...we love each other (for those very reasons, perhaps?).
Sometimes I have to backtrack through holidays to know when we saw each other last. I left Norway after a 3 month stay last December (right before Christmas), and then we didn't see each other again until March (right around Easter). During the March visit we figured out that we probably wouldn't see each other until August, but even that was up in the air because of work and school schedules. This would make it at LEAST 5 months between seeing each other and that is simply too long. Unfortunately, we grow restless of Skype, sometimes have nothing to text, and occasionally wish we weren't scheduled to talk to each other at exactly 6:15 in the morning or 10:15 at night. But we persevere and work through the challenges. Living through the 5- months-apart situation made us realize that it should never happen again, and so (ah yes, here is the point!) we scheduled a trip. A "romantic rondevous" if you will, meeting halfway between Norway and California. That put us in approximately Washington D.C. (a much cheaper destination than New York) in November. Instead of 4 months between the August visit and the upcoming Christmas/New Years trip for me to Norway, it was only 3 months. And that leaves a month and a half til we see each other again at the end of December. But that wasn't the happiest part...
We had a WONDERFUL trip! It was refreshing to be a couple again, without the constant family member around (no offense families, we love you dearly, but we don't often get the luxury of getting each other all to ourselves). Not only that, but we both flew between 5-8 hours (rather than the typical 14 - 24, depending on the cheapest flights we could find), to spend a lovely 4 day weekend together.
It's autumn, and the weather was absolutely perfect. For the entire time we were there, it was approximately 57 degrees (Farenheit, of course) and there was not a cloud in the sky. We took in all the tourist attractions and had a good time doing it (very sore and tired feet not included). I have to give details: we went through an underground tunnel to Capitol Hill where we took a tour of the Capitol and got to check out the House of Representatives Chamber (thanks Dad and Jane Harman). After that we walked the entire way to the Washington Monument (it's A LOT farther than it looks!) with a quick detour to pick up a delicious sandwich from the previously unheard of "Potbelly's" (so yummy) to devour later. We shoved the sandwiches in our bag and got moving so that we could take a picture in front of the White House, then walk by the World War II Memorial, past the reflecting pool, and up the stairs of the Lincoln Memorial to do the one thing Stian was really interested in: seeing the "big guy in the chair". We sat on the cold, marble (was it marble?) stairs, took off our shoes to give our aching feet a break, and devoured lunch. Then we headed over to the Vietnam War Memorial and since Veteran's Day had JUST passed, there were interesting things to look at and read. They were giving out papers and crayons to make a "rubbing" of a name you wanted. What a cool idea, and way better than any picture you could take! After a shedding a few unexpected tears, we moved on, desperately looking for a cab to take us back to the hotel: it was time to put up our poor feet!
After a nap and some tv we were ready to go out for dinner. We went to a great little restaurant we had heard about from some local girls the night before, and they were right: it was in the middle of nowhere, but a really great place. Homemade pizza, big glasses of wine, and just a short walk from the hotel was the perfect end to a long, but fun, day.
The next day was busy, too. Stian and I went to the Smithsonian Castle - we previously passed it on our hike to the Washington Monument and overheard a Segway tourguide say that it was the 2nd most visited museum after the Louvre in France. We checked it out and saw a random assortment of things on display (including a brief history of mail in the U.S. and the largest bird-eating tarantula, bleck!). We looked at the gardens and then went over to the Air and Space museum. You should've seen how excited Stian was when we walked in and saw all those spaceships! :) Passing by the IMAX theatre, we thought the 3D movie about the Hubble looked interesting and bought tickets for later (it was great, by the way!! highly recommend it!). We also tried out the simulator area of the museum - locking ourselves into a "fighter plane" and then turned upside down while firing missiles at the enemy was quite the experience.
After a wandering morning at the museum, we walked over to the Old Post Office Building (upon recommendation from Nick in San Diego) and it was really neat! The building was nice, and lent itself as a great place to sit and eat lunch before we headed up the tower for an AMAZING view of Washington D.C. (for free I might add!). When that was done, we tried to catch a cab, and got the greatest cab driver ever!! He was so nice! The plan was to go to the mall near the Pentagon, but we asked if he wouldn't mind stopping at the Arlington National Cemetery for a few minutes while we took a stroll through the beautiful and of course, famous place. It was breathtaking...there were SO many graves! Just rows upon rows of white grave markers. A sign read "Kennedy Memorial This Way" and we went. It was different than any other memorial we had seen, but I liked it.
Keeping an eye on the clock, we briskly walked back to our kind cab drivers car, hopped in and made our way to the mall. Our driver, named Woubi, showed us the Pentagon and pointed out where the plane crashed into it on September 11 - the stone is a slightly different color than the rest of the building. Fun fact, yes?Anyway, he dropped us off at the 4-story, and I must admit, beautiful mall. We shopped (something we love doing together!) and successfully found some winter shoes for us both.
What a day! We made it back to our hotel, found a good movie on HBO, and decided to order in Chinese food from a menu that was shoved under our door that weekend. Sounds great, right? Well, it kind of was...I had be CRAVING Chinese food, but when it arrived, it seemed the noodles in the chow mein had been on the warmer so long during the day they went crispy. I'm pretty sure they just poured sauce on top and then tried to microwave it to make it look fresh. China Express, you got a big fat "F" in the chow mein department, but redeemed yourself with decent meat and good fried rice.
Now, after boring you with many details from my four day weekend, I am approaching the best part. Our last day together consisted of an overpriced breakfast, checking out, and thinking we could waste about 4.5 hours in Starbucks. That got pretty boring pretty fast, and the bathroom there smelled like a homeless person had been living in it. So we went a few doors down to Potbelly's to get some airplane food, sat in a booth and realized we really couldn't sit there for 2.5 more hours, either. Maybe we could take in a movie? Yeah! Great idea!! Sadly, a great idea much too late. To go to the movies, you need to plan ahead. We didn't and that little time killer might get in the way of getting to the airport later. So we started walking down the street with all of our luggage dragging behind us. We saw a sign for the National Gallery of Art and thought maybe, just maybe, they would have a bag check.
They sure did!! We checked our bags and started wandering the gallery of German drawings. It was okay, nothing amazing, but it killed over an hour and we were grateful for that. We headed out again, found a hotdog stand and sat in the sunshine to eat and enjoy each other's company just a little bit more before heading to the airport.
Our cab driver from the day before had offered us a ride to the airport and gave us his phone number. We called, he picked us up at the Gallery, and we went for the most beautiful drive. This was one of my favorite parts. The colors of autumn in D.C. are lovely and vibrant. All weekend I was commenting on how beautiful the trees were - yellows, oranges, and wonderful reds and greens. Ahhh, so lovely. As we drove, we actually got stuck in a bit of traffic and a group of 3 girls were trying to catch falling leaves. Those leaves were falling EVERYWHERE!! There was a little breeze and they were just...raining down so quietly. I wanted to jump out of the car and catch a few myself. We eventually made it to George Washington Parkway...the funny thing was, our driver was really into rock and roll, but on this part of the road, he switched it to wordless music. I believe it was intentional, to leave us (and him) alone with our thoughts as we took in the scenery. I even pulled out my camera and took a video of it because I thought it was so...lovely. That's all I can say to describe it. I was sitting in the backseat holding Stian's hand watching the sun go through all the autumn colors still on the trees, and all I could think of was that it was a perfect way to end a perfect weekend.
As a bonus, the airport didn't have separate terminals/security/closed gates so Stian and I could wander around together, play cards and kiss goodbye right before he handed over his boarding pass to get on the plane. That never happens...and it probably never will again. What a special trip!
It wasn't a sad goodbye; not this time. :)
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