on living in an old asylum, the dali lama, and learning how to kill a fish with my bare hands

it is only my fourth day in norway yet i feel like i have been here for months. sunday is my only day off so i'm spending it writing back loved ones, drinking spicy chai, and trying to keep warm in my little room in this huge place.

the peace organization that i am working with inherited a building that used to be a tuberculosis hospital in the early 1900's, then a asylum in the sixties. the building has been abandoned ever since so they needed help renovating the existing structure and setting up ecological greenhouses- which is why i'm here.

right now i and five other volunteers live in the asylum...yes we actually live in an asylum! the place is filled with deteriorating furniture, medical records, and rusty wheelchairs. surprisingly though it is not as creepy as one would think. there is also a romanian family who lives on our floor. the father used to be an elvis impressionist, is magic with a guitar, and has taken to calling me "bre-et" or just "bread". the other volunteers arrived around the same time as i did and we've all become good friends rather quickly. since we are all from different countries it has been interesting learning about our vast cultural differences and getting to know one another. mostly though, they just tease me for saying "y'all" and not knowing the what anything is in celsius/kilometers/grams.
anna, another volunteer who lives in landenskogen, is a hilarious norwegian woman with a mouth like a sailor. she took us fishing the other day and although i didn't catch anything i now know how to kill and gut a fish with my bare hands- which i am sure will come in handy some day.

so far our work has consisted of repainting a small house that is also situated on the property. when i asked why we were starting on such a small project instead of the asylum i was told it was because the dali lama was visiting in march and would be staying there. i thought they were joking- i was wrong.
so there's that. i am painting a house for the dali lama.

each day work starts at nine and ends at three, by then everyone is exhausted. we make and eat dinner together which is usually something vegetarian and simple. on most nights we'll walk down to the fjord to listen to music, drink a couple beers, and sit by the fire. it's impossibly cold and beautiful here.

even though the days are longs and the work is difficult there are few feelings that compare to falling asleep sore, worn out, and knowing you did something good and right at the end of the day.