Festivals

Yeehaw!  Rodeos and Festivals seem to be one of a Texan's favorite past-time...after BBQ, beer, and dancing anyway; but they are at least in the top 10.  I spent a cumulative total of 22 years in the Texas-Louisiana gulf coast.  I considered myself a Texan for most of my adult life.  However, having been in Utah for a total 9 years, I not sure I can continue to claim Texas, but I don't really want to claim Utah.  Hmmm...Texan...Utard...hmmm.

It was a general past time of mine, later in my Texan timeline, to seek out festivals around the state.  Because of the "wild west", Texas has a town of some sort just about every 20 miles in some direction.  I hear the reason was that 20 miles is about all one could travel in a day on horseback.  This being said, it gives way for a lot of small towns to have festivals to draw in $$$ (if speeding tickets aren't a great enough revenue source).  During my festival phase, I would on occasion get talked into a few bull-doggin' events as can be seen below.  It only took a couple of times for me to wonder if beer and dancing wasn't a better, if not safer, hobby.

Although there are hundreds...maybe even a thousand different festivals around the State of Texas in a given year, one of the most popular and fun is the Renaissance Festival in Plantersville, Texas, about 30 miles northwest of Houston.  Astri and I visited our son and g'son in Houston last autumn and attended it.  This is not your typical festival since it seems to draw ALL types.  Many of the visitors enjoy dressing up and participating, but I have more fun people-watching than watched.  Here are a few photos of the "RenFest."

Now...lets leap 3000 miles across the Atlantic Ocean to Norway...more specifically the island of Smøla.  This is a fairly large island (øy) along the western coast, southwest of Kristansund.  Astri has family on the island...another post...yikes.  Actually it is more like a big flat rock probably dropped by some Norsk god who missed the mainland.  I don't recall one item of vegetation that was taller then me.  They do how ever have a very large and interesting wind farm on the island.

Anyway, Astri's mom happened to mention there was a festival in the town of Veiholmen.  It's population in 2003 was 325, but since 2004 it is no longer considered an urban settlement by Statistics Norway, and its data is therefore not recorded separately (Wikipedia).  This wasn't just any festival...it was a rowboat festival!  Those Nordmenn sure know how to party!  The town was actually quite quaint, although when we go there it was 3:00 pm and the streets were being rolled up.

We finally made it to the festival...here is a photo of the rowboats...ALL the rowboats.

Maybe the celebration was a bit early and we missed out?  At least I got a good chuckle on the road sign that means "speed bump."  As an American, it is hard to not to laugh when one reads "Fart" on a public sign...hehe.

  

This "Bud's" for You

I am an American by birth...and an American by choice.  I love this country; in my mind there is no better game in town; this is my homeland.  I'm fairly sure this how most people around the world feel about their own countries also, as they should.  I am also very inexperienced when it comes to world travels.  A few years ago I spent three "tours" of 27 days in Equatorial Guinea, on the island of Bioko, as part of an environmental assessment for the World Bank.  As the plane touched down I immediately understood why I've never seen it mentioned in any tourist magazines...but I digress...

No, this is NOT Norway

Jeg kan være en amerikansk, men jeg er gift med en norsk...I may be an American, but I am married to a Norwegian.  A norsk that loves what both countries have to offer.  She maintains a blog where I am commonly, and lovingly, referred to as the NVO (norsk via osmosis).  It only took one trip to Norway with her to see why she still carries that love and wants to share it with me.  Although most Norwegians speak very good English (thank gawd), I went away with a desire to learn the language of my wife's heritage (she speaks very good norsk).  I have been amazed at some of the similarities between norsk og engelsk (since both are Germanic languages)...but I digress (I should have majored in "digression" in college)...


There are many subtle sounds in the Norwegian language that I cannot yet detect.  To me they sound so similar, but can make a huge difference in meaning...west (øst), cheese (ost), autumn (høst).  They may be spelled and readable as different words, but trying to hear the differences or pronounce them...huff a huff.  This is just one of many examples.

Molde

One true life example that did not involve me, but I was a close observer, involved my wife while we were shopping in Molde.  Astri was looking for a pewter plate to add to a collection she has, made by a Norwegian artist.  Within a small shop she located one she "thought" she was missing (only to find out when we got back that it was one she already had).   Wow...this story is taking a long time...come on NVO, get to the point!  Even though Astri is and looks Norwegian, my guess is my American decent was apparent as I stepped through the door.  Astri and the lady chatted in and out of Norwegian and English.  Near the end of the chat it came up that Astri's mother lived in Norway.  When asked where, she replied, "Bud."  Now "Bud" is just over a couple of hills and fjord's, maybe 45 minutes, surely she had heard of it, but apparently not.  Now, for all you silly Americans, "Bud" is NOT pronounced exactly like the American beer (now owned by a Dutch company if my memory serves me right).  You have to take the "u" part and drop your jaw downward as you say it...and the "d" is silent.


The next two minutes was like Keystone Cops in a talking picture.  The exchange between Astri and the sales lady put me in a chuckle.  How many ways can you pronounce a three letter word?  They began a back and forth conversation of that one word, each with a subtle difference.  It was like watching the volley in a tennis match with "Bud" being thrown back and forth for what seemed like two minutes!   Finally the sales lady says, "Oh....Bud!"  I've looked in the dictionary and I cannot find any word that could get confused with Bud.  They laughed for a bit about the exchange.  Then, isn what I would like to think was a typical Norwegian response, asked us, complete strangers, if we'd like to go out with her family that evening crabbing along the rocks.

Molde

Astri and I still get a lot of mileage out of that story.  Anytime we say something to each other and it isn't understood, you'll more often than not hear us in the volley of "Bud? Boo-d, Bood? Buud  Boo?....."


This Bud's for you!

Dad Humor, Pt.2

In the earlier post on "Dad Humor" I mentioned some of the items we get from our kids when they are young.  Here are a few of the items I have; not only have, but they are displayed.  I've had them displayed for over 20 years.

This was one of Leilani's first attempts at a cross-stitch...and maybe her last?

Jessica carved this out of a piece of sandstone.

Jared and Rebekah made these casts of their hands.  I put them in a frame later to display and protect.