Multicultural gym

I decided to try the zumba class at the gym here in Oslo today. The gym here has new classes every month and zumba has been packed for the last 3 months. So yesterday I tried to sign up (yup, you've got to sign up online for each class here) and luckily was number 2 in the wait list. Today those 2 people cancelled and when I got to the gym I got the pass...

Now, I must admit I had no clue what the class was about. I'm usually lazy about running, so I like group classes mainly for trying something different and not yet monotonous. And for that same reason I sign up for classes I have no clue about: at least they are unexpected!

Early on I realize this is dancing mixed with aerobics. Hum... tricky. Being Brazilian everyone expects me to be great at dancing... but my German genetics don't allow it (I feel like a broomstick trying to move around). Add to it some shyness and group exposure is a bad result. Well, at least no one at the gym class knows I don't speak Norwegian, let alone that I'm from another continent.

We start with some latin music... then, to my surprise comes samba! (And the general lack of coordination makes me feel better.)
Then some salsa... ok...
Some other songs... And, when I'm almost relaxing, comes funk from Rio de Janeiro.

Now, I need to pause to explain that the funk in Rio (called funk carioca) is a style in its own, the lyrics are always very graphic and describe men dominating women and sex. As most pop songs in Brazil, lyrics are usually not paid attention to, which makes them worse. Then there is a coreography, which is as explicit as you can get in public. Funk carioca is very heavy on ass shaking and back and forth motions to be more exact.

As the song tchutchuca (for videos you can always do your own search :P ) picks up in the gym class I blush. I mean, in Brazil I always refused to dance these songs... they are a bit over the top for me. And here in Norway, where no one has a clue about the lyrics the girls start to roll their waist, shake their butts and dance as if... Well, could I argue that not knowing the lyrics makes it ok? Then at least I could use the comparative advantage of knowing the choreography beforehand... Ah... stupidity is bliss.

And with export products like this it is no wonder that Brazilians abroad have to put up with ideas that our country is all about soccer (football), naked women, and carnival...

Back to the freezer

After being in Paris for a whole 10 days it is time to go back to Oslo (aka the freezer). Sad to be leaving Paris? Definitely. Sorry to be going to Oslo? Not really. The 10 days here in Paris were great to spend time with A.. We did a lot of sight seeing and partying (I'm still recovering from Friday...), spent time together, etc like the good ol' days in Raleigh. But it is also easy to see that my life is not here.

- First, I've never been good at working from home. There is always something more interesting to do, be it cooking, dishes, cleaning or even just plain procrastinating. I also don't like to work by myself and enjoy the sounds of people chatting, occasional hellos and just not feeling like I am the only one who's stuck in a place with work (I wrote my PhD thesis at coffee shops where I knew all the owners and got special deals). So working from a 40m2 apartment the entire week was crazy (and not very productive).

- It is evident that A.'s life is here: his work, his friends, his gossip, he knows the quirks and the ways things work. And it is hard to catch up! Whenever we go out I hang out with A. (primarily) or anyone that cares to "network" with me (it is crazy how these MBA's calculate how much time they are spending on each person and have to rationalize it as networking). Most of A.'s class (around 75%) are single males... which means they are on a hunt, especially for younger French girls from the rest of the university. The married ones usually don't go out and I cannot really relate much to the housewives who's main topic of conversation is shopping and kids. Having no one to talk to is tough! But, hey, I've been sitting on the same chair by myself the whole day and NEED to spend some of my daily word quota!

- This means that not only was I working from home, but as soon as A. got back I would flood him with questions, conversation, chatting and talking which he doesn't like. I understand that when you are mentally tired and have been around people the entire day you might not want to chat. As the week went on A. became more and more intolerant to random questions... "Why do you think the bar is so empty?" "Is there going to be food at the Japanese week event?" "Where is X from?" Not that I really cared about the answers, and a plain "Don't know." would have done the trick. I admit I was trying to keep his attention and was not doing a good job. But to blow up after 2 innocent questions is a bit much to take. I understand he does not have all info but he's the best and only source of information I have so sometimes I ask just to see if there is any info out there, not that I really need it.

So while in Paris I get to have A. close by, I think it is high time to get back to where my life is. Oslo is where I am motivated to work in a team, where I have a schedule, where I get things done, and where I have some friends. But on the other hand I'm just hoping this year apart will fly by so that we can just get back to having both lives in the same place...

Indians and visas: the nightmare (Part II)

Someone from the Moroccan embassy called this morning... I picked up, explained I was A.'s wife and said A. wasn't home. The guy did not tell me anything, just asked me to tell A. to call them asap. I was surprised to get a call so early (merely 2 days after applying) and thought that maybe there was some document missing in the application.

When A. got home for lunch he headed straight to the phone... 20 attempts later (no one was picking up) the same guy he talked to at the consulate picked up. And the result of A.'s Moroccan visa application was an unapologetic, without reason, resounding denial! This had never happened to A. before as he quickly pointed out to the guy. The guy went on to say that they did not make the decisions about visas, they had sent his application by mail to Morocco and had only received the result. (By mail in 2 days????????). On the reason for the denial, no clue either.

So that leaves us with useless air tickets to and from Morocco worth €450 (unchangeable). The 2 friends that are coming to the US to travel with us have been told by email (no response yet). But, overall, the worse is the feeling of being stranded and powerless. Why deny a tourist visa for 2 weeks?? Why can't we have more clearcut visa rules around? Are visas like lotteries in which at some point in time your unlucky number is drawn and you are denied the right to travel? Damn!

I'm pissed and sad... And I offered to go get the passport back from the consulate (since A. has class) so I guess all there is for me to do is sit on the trains for 5 hours...

Life lessons

When I was small I always dreamed about traveling far and wide.
As I grew older I tried to go after this dream as well as I could.
And I managed to go far... quite far and wide.
But I never thought that "far" had a limit.
Probably it doesn't... there is always one more place you have not seen yet.
But time goes by...
As I get older I begin understanding why people actually end up settling down.
"Where" is still a big question (too big for now)
But I find myself missing places, and specially friends made and left behind more and more
So I'm wondering whether settling down is actually about accepting the place you are at
Instead of not going around anymore.

The best of developing countries

Any developing country has them, but they are almost impossible to find in more developed parts of the world:

Can you see how many things this little store sells? And inside the store there was everything you might need from hairbrushes, to cooking pots, to soap, to rain jackets, to needles and thread, to plastic toys, to fake Christmas trees, to... anything! Usually in the USA you can find all this at a Wal Mart type place, which is huge and usually requires a car to get to. The beauty of developing country stores is that there is one in almost every neighborhood. So if you run out of something essential, you just head down the street and get it.

Yesterday, after the whole visa episode, we were walking around Paris (in an immigrant neighborhood) and guess what!! We found the store above! Having no car and still getting used to the long time it takes to get by train to almost anywhere, this was too good to pass. We went in and in 10 minutes found all we needed for the house: clothes hangers, toothpicks, comb, tupperware, grater, winter caps, a thermos, nail cutter, and even cotton balls. All for a very good price too!

I guess developed places also have the advantage of immigrant communities, so maybe it is just a matter of knowing where to look... A. wasn't too excited about carrying the backpack full of stuff for the rest of the afternoon though ;o)

Indians and visas: the nightmare

Anyone that has traveled with an Indian friend, boyfriend, family member, or is an Indiam him(her)self knows that Indians need visas to go almost anywhere in the world. This means that whenever A. and I want to travel abroad he needs to get one. Sometimes it is easier (like getting a Brazilian visa by mail in the USA), sometimes it is expected (like the hassle everyone goes through to get an American visa), sometimes it just happens to not be so hard (like when there is a Mexican consulate in Raleigh that is always empty and doesn't even require appointments) and sometimes, like today, it drives A. crazy.

Some friends of ours from the USA suggested an end of the year trip and we ended up settling on Morocco. At the time we got the tickets I mentioned to A. that he needed a visa and he said he's get it (without having checked what it entailed). As the trip is less than a month away now A. and I started searching for information on how to apply for a visa. The website did not help (all in French, and even after translation it did not provide much info) and upon calling them I was told that for Indians the visa application was sent to Morocco for approval, which could take up to 6 weeks!! Needless to say we headed to the consulate the very next day (today) to apply for the visa. The Moroccan consulate turns out to be about 2.5 hours by train from A.'s apartment... which means that he missed a day of classes. I went with him for the moral support, hoping to catch up on the work later in the week. Arriving at the consulate was interesting... an old house, with lots of papers pasted on the walls (in French and mostly in Arabic), many people sitting around in confusion and lot's of offices filled with desks covered in papers (and with oil paintings of old men on the walls). A. went in.

The guy takes all the papers and hands him a "new" visa application form to be filled out saying that the application A. had downloaded from their website was an old one. Then A. returns with the new form and the guys goes through all papers and passport and starts asking questions:
"So, your name is A.?" (No, duh, his name is Mustafa!)
"Are you from India?" (Hum... had he just gotten the wrong cover for his Canadian passport??)
"So you are married to a German woman?" (Yes, I'm both Brazilian and German... but I like the stress on woman he put in the sentence).
"You and your wife live together?"
"Does she work?"
"Why do you want to go to Morocco?" (Because it happens to be nice and warm when it is chilly here)
"Why Morocco?" (By now A. was questioning that himself...)

So he kept A.'s passport and said that the visa might be done in a week. There is no proof A. ever applied for a visa or that they have his passport (which happens to be his only ID in France), except for a handwritten note with a name and a phone number he should call in one week. And then 2.5 hours to get there and 2.5 hours back...

As I mentioned above, I have dual citizenship (my grandparents on my father's side were German and the nationality was passed down to me). Having a developing and a developed country passport has turned out to be super useful to travel around. No need for visas, even work authorization in Norway, etc.

But visas also reflect a country's foreign policy. Brazil's visa requirements are based on the rule of reciprocity: if a given country requires an entry visa for a Brazilian citizen then Brazil requires an entry visa for citizens of that country. This is why Americans need a visa to go to Brazil but Europeans do not. On the other hand, only citizens of Buthan, Nepal and Maldives do not need a visa to visit India...

If you are interested in checking out how many countries you can visit without needing a visa, check out the Henley Index. The score each country gets is the number of countries that it's citizens do not need a visa to visit.

Any horror stories to share?

Paris as a tourist

On Saturday we went around Paris. We woke up early (a great feat!!), took the train and arrived in Paris right on time to have lunch at Saravana Bhavan. This place is a South Indian institution, with delicious dosas, thalis, idlis, and anything else you might be craving for. A. had found out they have a restaurant in Paris and was eager to try it out!

A. super excited with his thali, puris and papads.

After a huge meal we walked around the neighborhood and stocked up on Indian groceries and veggies. Nice to find a place carrying them here! If only A.'s school wasn't 1:30 from this place by train I'm sure he'd be here every day!

From there we headed to the Eiffel Tower and A.'s new student-on-a-budget mentality kicked in and he did not want to go up. "Are you nuts? Pay to go up the tower? I've seen it from down here and this is fine for me". I finally convinced him that it was ok to pay €4,50 to climb the stairs, so up we went. It was definitely worth it, as the view is quite amazing.

Windy pic.

Back down we walked around a bit and then decided to go to the Latin Quarter for some Latin food. Well, it seems like many tourists make this mistake... but the Latin Quarter has nothing to do with Latin culture other than the universities located there that used to teach in Latin!! So, as cheap tourists we ended up searching Paris guide books at a bookstore for a good place to eat. Off we went for St. Paul. And, on the way, was Notre Dame cathedral:

Notre Dame at night.

Not bad, not bad. The place we headed to was actually closed, but it was in a very cute Israeli part of town, where we found a great place selling fallafel. It was an amazing meal, that was topped off with some pistachio gelatto we got next door. We headed back home and crashed. What a good Saturday!