I’m sitting home alone now, as he is on julebord (Norwegian word for Christmas party organised by the company for its employees, which translated word by word would be Christmas table), so I’m blogging again. Talking about Norwegian custom, Norway is by no mean a religious country. Christianity officially remains to be/ or used to be the state’s religion, but most of the population (let’s say 90% or more, most of them are elder people) are secular, according to my own view. However, Norwegian people like to celebrate religious holidays, due to a very non-religious reason, it’s an excuse to drink and party. People’s calendar these days are packed with julebord, with family, friends, workmate, clubs, etc. and Norwegian julebord has been desbribed on newspapers as very costly and alcohol-rich.
Anyway, return back to me and my entry, what trigger you to think when you hear the title ‘Mr. Bear’? No no, it’s not the fizzy brown bear which could stand on two legs and like to eat honey. What I see now more closely to what I mean is in fact Teddy bear, a cute, sweet, huggy and very …. soft one. He’d say “Why? why do you do this to me?”, but his wife always in return gives him a big hug, swing a round and kiss his frowning forehead, and explain “because everyone needs a Teddy bear.”
I often try to relate his facial expressions now to those I see on black and white pictures of him when he was …. a baby. And true enough, I see that they are still the same. I told him “Honey, your face still looks exactly like when you were 1/ or 3/ or 5 years old.” He’d think that I was joking or pulling his leg. In fact, I was just trying to connect to the 32 years of his life before I got to know him. Just think 32 years, it’s a big chunk of a life time, isn’t it? And during this long long period, I was not aware about him, I was a complete stranger, or even was not existing in the same world the first 7 years. I often look at his one year old picture, very chubby and cute boy, with curl-up sulky lips, and the same way of bending his hand like now, and wonder “How strange! Where was I then? I was not even in this world yet. How could it be possible!”
I often try to compare him now and then, as to cable up the threat of time from the past that is unknown to me to our known presence, to reason to myself that this is the same person, and by that way, I somehow seem to be acquainted to him in his past too. This cute chubby boy, is, yes, him, and is still him. I like to feel like I know him along his life, counting even days when I myself was not born into the world.
It’s a funny feeling. I don’t attempt to ‘get to know’ my mum, for example, in her past, as for me Mum is only born into the world the moment she gave birth to me. Before that she was not a Mum. And maybe, for that reason, I feel like I know her all the way along her Mum-hood. But why not the same with Mr.Bear? Maybe because I think of him not only as a hubby, but a person that I’d like to ‘be known to’.
From stories about his life, I got to know that shrimp in Poland is a luxury and he hardly had a chance to eat it. So, the other day, feeling so sorry for the pitiful boy, I went to the VNese supermarket to buy some tiger shrimps for him, just to get an experience of eating those HUGE shrimps. And they were truly HUGE, each as big as a banana. I informed him that we’ll eat some truly big shrimps to day. He went into the kitchen, throw a look at the shrimps lying in the sink and asked “What about these … crabs?”🙂
I repeated that they are not crabs but shrimps. He insisted, no, of course they are not shrimps, for shrimps can not be so big. And then he concluded “they are not shrimps, they are …. monsters!!!” Poor boy!
Later on, he informed me “I was fighting with a monster”. The next days, I fried the rest of the ‘monsters’ and asked if he want to ‘fight’ with some more ‘monsters’. He tried and claimed that ‘monsters taste good”. Did I told you that the day I bought a real, living sea crab home for dinner, instead of expecting a good meal, he was insisting on ‘raising Mr. Crab’ and started searching on what type of food such type of sea crab prefers. Unfortunately, while Mr. Bear was busy with his rescue mission, Mr. Crab stopped to move. After 15 minutes with failed ‘first aid’ attempt (including calling :hello, hello Mr. Crab), Mr. Bear allowed Mr. Crab to go into the … boiling water and became a good meal.
From time to time, he still acts, or jokes in the same way as a small boy, but I told myself that there’d be no more of ‘taste bud enlightment’.