All I can hear is the rain. It has been biblical for about a week. I hear stories of the locals building a large wooden structure and limiting the numbers aboard. The harrows of the fields have become little pools filled with fly larvae and broccoli flower. My orange suit of oiled waterproofs have lost the ability to dry, giving me a permanently mouldy smell that doesn’t suit a person of my age and unquestionable beauty. So it turns out that in Norway it can RAIN.
I’ve been here two weeks. It’s nice. The people, the landscape, the food, it’s all truly nice. My mood however,at times, not so nice. I swing from happy, verging on elated, filled with endorphins and triumph from the worming of the sheep or the erecting of a marvellous electric fence: to the depths of melancholy, letting soil run through my fingers as I attempt to repot the 75th baby basil plant that day. I spend my evenings chatting to my more than wonderful host, reading fiction, watching reruns of shows I’ve already seen, but are the only things saved on my laptop. I am definitely bored, but I am also something else and the something else occupies my mind relatively often.
I am everything that a 25 year old in 2016 is told they will be. I am unsure of my life and where it is headed. I am struggling with: ambition mixed with the longing to live in the same place for more than 6 months, the want of a solid partner in crime and the lust for the adventure of the single life, the wish to travel luxuriously without spending all my money, and the insatiable want for things/stuff/everything mixed with an idealised notion of packing up and living in a van for the next two years. Possibly this is just a symptom of being slightly more of an adult (if indeed that word can at all be applied), as I now have the freedom and wherewithal to make decisions about every aspect of my life. This is the most tiring wall I have come up against in a while. Life provides me too many choices, even with my lack of sentimentally and reliance on others I cannot narrow down the world. So I pretend to do more yoga than I do, and take more care of my body than I do, and watch less reality tv than I do. My time in which I eat only crisps. My favourite time. However one life lesson securely learnt so far is that if you do your favourite thing all the time it stops being your favourite thing and you become in danger of contracting gout. So now I will try, and in some ways am trying, to spend more time out of my crisp cave.
I am here for one more week. Then my mother will pick me up from the airport because another lesson I have learnt is that I despise public transport, almost as much as I despise plant life.