What is a bjørnefitte?

So, the blog name!  Much as I loved all of the lovely puns on the words Norway and pølse, once bjørnefitte came into my life there was really no going back.  Bjørnefitte is not a real Norwegian word (yet) but it translates as 'bear fanny'.  There is no better phrase, surely.  This term was coined to describe the delightful trapper hat worn by one of my fellow Workawayers.  It does indeed look like a bear fanny.

It's my third day in Norway, and, boy, it's been an absolute treat so far.  I arrived on Thursday, about twelve hours door to door.  Strangely, the journey didn't seem arduous, only a taxi, followed by two trains, then a bus, then a plane, then a bus, then a train, then a car. I can only put this down to the fact that the past few months have been horrifically stressful, and anything else feels like a holiday!  That, or the fact that I've switched from six to one cup of coffee per day and am no longer in a constant state of caffeine induced hypertension. I am truly zenified.

The farm I'm staying on is called Sygard Troft (no idea what that means) and is owned by an eleventh generation farmer called Anne Helene.  She is an incredibly impressive individual, multi-skilled, hardy and very generous- she reminds me of Germaine Greer's drovers wife. I would never dare to cross her for she has many chainsaws.  It's the biggest farm in the town of Follebu in the county of Oppland.  There's a selection of beautiful barns and a farmhouse dating from the 17th Century.  I live in the most magical little fairytale cabin.  Today we used the tractor shovel to dig out the stone which I was using as my front strep- turns out it's an old boundary stone from 1776. I got a new stone from the creek, and I can usually find a delightful cat sitting there.  The cats are all magnificent- a dribbly black witch's cat, a slinky tabby and a black and white baby whose coat is so matted it's actually solidified. She's being shaved a little at a time and is currently sporting a naked cat bottom.

The work so far has been most unexpected: making a mat from silver birch twigs, collecting felled trees from the forest, changing winter tyres for summer tyres and caring for a crack-a-lacking bevvy of geese, ducks, chickens, bantams, goats, a pig, Shetland, a trotter, bunnies and guinea pigs.  Most of the animals are 'therapy pets', in place for the children and elderly people who visit the farm throughout the year.  Thus they are all very sweet natured.  Apart from the hissy geese.  But they're softies really.  They share a pen with a bunny who just loves geese. Loves 'em. 

Apart from Anne Helene, there is her boyfriend Tommy who visits at the weekend ( 'he's a bureaucrat, don't ask how anything works') and her five children.  So far I've met two: Thea, who is 19 in four days and a complete sweetheart- super enthusiastic, personable and desperate to get out and explore the world.  Like all Norwegian girls she is very blonde and beautiful- that's her playing the ice guitar on our walk up the local waterfall. Godt is in his late teens and keeps himself to himself- he's into computer games and basketball and clearly thinks girls are icky.

I've been so lucky with my fellow Workawayers who are two of the nicest young men you could imagine.  Ruben is 20 and pretends to be misanthropic. He's been here for three months and the family clearly adores him.  Felix (whose surname is Finger!!) is 23, hails from Hamburg and is incredibly funny.  That's him also playing the ice guitar.  We've just been playing Alias, the Norwegian version of Articulate, and I have spent 90 minutes crying with laughter.  The Norwegian version has an extra facet, and every so often you have to perform a round with a given 'emosjion'- hysterical, angry, scared, shy, drunk... We must play this version at Friendmas.

Right!  Off to bed because tomorrow we're going to the Lillehammer 1994 Olympics Museum!  I've also offered to make a roast with Yorkshire puddings in the evening.  I like these people and want to give them food.  Typical.