This is How We’re Learning Norwegian

At this point in my Nordic life, I’m secretly thrilled to make it through any interaction without the other party knowing I’m not Norwegian. I can usually pass if words aren’t exchanged, especially when I’m with Gavin. But speaking is a dead giveaway, and most if not all Norwegians are quick to bail me out with their excellent English. I am most often successful with this charade at the grocery store, where the rotating cadre of cashiers only ask one question: do I want a bag for my groceries. The answer is always nei, since I bring my own bags with me. If I’m feeling especially cocky I’ll throw in a tusen takk – thank you – as I finish bagging.

The best venue for Gavin and me to practice Norwegian is the weekly språk kafe, a language conversation group put on by the University’s office for international researcher support. In my head I pronounce språk so that it rhymes with crack, although if pronounced correctly it’s somewhere between crook and croak.

The språk kafe is held every Tuesday from 1-2:30 pm in an old wooden building on campus. The building has a lounge with a comfortable U-shaped sofa, with coffee and snacks provided. Gavin and I arrived for our first språk kafe and were greeted by Wanda, the friendly Romanian woman who leads the group. Her first question to us is “which one of you is the attachment?” We looked at each other quizzically until she explained further what she meant – which of us works at the University, and which of us is unencumbered by the formal economy.

We sit, and Wanda explains the day’s activity to the group: we will pair up and ask each other a series of questions, and write our partner’s answers on a sheet of paper. Since this week’s group is relatively small, we won’t be divided into levels based on proficiency. She makes a point of telling Gavin and me that we can’t be paired together. Instead, I am paired with an Indian woman.

I look at the first question on the sheet – “Who are you?” – which feels more existential than I’m prepared for on this Tuesday. The Indian woman launches into her recent life accomplishments – she’s an emergency medicine physician, and her husband is a researcher at NTNU. They moved to Norway four months ago, and in that time she’s already completed one University-level semester of Norwegian on her own. I, on the other hand, have passed with flying colors through counting on Duolingo. She is not happy to be paired with a beginner.

I looked around the room at the other participants. The group was nearly evenly split, men and women. There are a couple of Italian women, a Dane with a newborn baby, and a Syrian guy with a thick beard and a man bun. They are all in their 20s and 30s, and most have at least one advanced degree, which makes sense for a group affiliated with the University. Nearly all of them are attachments.

Gavin has been paired with an affable British guy who appears to be doing all the heavy lifting in this lesson for both of them. I am instantly envious.

While the other pairs were alternating – each partner answering a question before moving on – the Indian physician proceeds to move from question to question without giving me a chance to answer. The next question was “Why are you learning Norwegian and who will you speak it with?” The Indian physician is in the middle of a lengthy application to acquire her Norwegian medical license. The license requires her to know Norwegian, and her determination is evident in the way that she is correcting my spelling and going into more detail than necessary for the purpose of this ungraded exercise.

I can empathize with her desperation. For my study abroad semester in college, I boldly chose to Brazil – a country whose language I did not speak. Upon moving in with my host family, I discovered just how difficult it would be to live among people that I could not communicate with. The family were excellent hosts – they fed me authentic Brazilian food, took me to the beach, and spoke as much English as they knew – but I spent most of the semester in a near panic over how to appropriately express my gratitude while fighting the urge to retreat to my bedroom immediately upon arriving home. Thankfully my program offered language classes, and I swear to God I have never worked as hard in any academic setting as I did that semester in Portuguese 1.

The next question gives away the theme of today’s session – reading. Google translates it as “Tell me your preferences regarding books.” I write down that the Indian physician reads lots of novels, especially British and American novels. I horribly botch the spelling of especially, which I learn is særlig in Norwegian. She takes my paper and corrects it herself. I look over at Gavin, who is laughing and having a covert conversation in English with his British partner. Wanda lightly reprimands them and implores them å snakke (to speak) in Norwegian. The Dane is talking about the books she reads to her daughter. The man bun is halfway through Gabriel García Marquez. The Indian physician hands my paper back. How was I supposed to guess that særlig contains an æ?

In my defense, my current Norwegian vocabulary is not very well suited to discuss reading. The other place in Trondheim where I have been learning Norwegian is the Trondheim Frikirke, a Norwegian church that provides a simulcast of its worship services in English. All the Anglophones are given a headset, and a translation is provided in real time by an interpreter in a booth on the side of the sanctuary. It’s pretty cool actually, and it feels like I’m at the United Nations, except that everyone’s blond, and Lutheran.

The Frikirke is one of those churches where the minister projects the main points of his sermon on a screen. So if I’m stealthy, I can look up some of these words on Google Translate without anyone noticing that I’m on my phone in church. However, this means that my vocabulary is heavy on words such as loving-kindness, and resurrection, and sin.

The fourth question asks us to “Mention a very good book and tell what it’s about.” My partner must be getting weary of my slow writing and inept spelling, because after she tells me that her favorite book is Harry Potter, her only follow up is “we all know what it’s about.”

At this point Wanda is asking us to wrap up the exercise in the next few minutes, and we switch roles so I can answer the questions. In the interest of time – and my limited vocabulary – my answers follow the sentence structure of my partner, changing only the details that obviously don’t apply. I studied Law in America, rather than Medicine in India, for example. I read a lot of essays, especially British and American essays.

At this point we each have one last question to answer: “Which character in a book, film, or TV series from your childhood do you most identify with?” I let the Indian physician write her answer on my paper because it’s a character I’ve never heard of. I am in a panic, because I cannot think of a single book, film, or movie that would make a suitable answer. I look over at Gavin, and he is in the same position. As Wanda is asking to collect our papers, I scribble the only thing that pops into my head, Ninja Skilpadder, which did happen to be my favorite childhood cartoon (heroes in a half-shell!), even if it’s not necessarily what I want this group to associate with me. Gavin panics and writes down an elg – a moose – which is not in reference to any specific character but was featured heavily in Duolingo’s recent lesson on animals.

As the class breaks up, the Indian physician leaves quickly for another appointment, but each of the other participants – the Italians, the Danish mom, the Syrian with the man bun – all greet each other warmly and linger to chat over the remaining fruit and coffee. Gavin and the Brit make plans to go to a soccer game next week. Wanda reminds us that we can snakker again the following Tuesday afternoon – to help us find a job, find a friend, or just move unnoticed through a foreign land.