Memories of Norway

Oh, I know. Being constantly bent down and picking big, red strawberries. My back hurt so much! But you had to be tough – your pay was directly related with the amount of strawberries you were able to pick. I also remember my summer job as a street sweeper in Oslo. There I was wearing a green and orange suit, sound deadening headphones and safety glasses. Beautiful and stylish Norwegians were walking the streets while I was using a blower machine to sweep the little stones from the pavements. I also remember – and I probably will never forget – another job I had.

I had to paint a pigsty. Beautiful, Norwegian traditional red paint was dripping from the brush, while I was swinging back and forth on a basket lift. Painting the fan area was a nightmare. On the third day I stopped caring, I stink so bad that every time I got back from work, I had to dispose of my clothes into a black plastic bag and head straight to take a shower. Even after that, I had this weird feeling that there are some pigs somewhere around me. That is how I perceived Norway up until last March.