An old-fashioned Norwegian Advent

I grew up in Norway, the country where you are almost guaranteed a white Christmas, so needless to say, snow was a very important ingredient in my childhood Christmas. But it was much more than that.

In Norway, Christmas starts either by the first Sunday of Advent or December first, whatever comes first. On the first Sunday of Advent a huge Christmas Tree is lit in evert city and town. This is a big event where families, friends and neighbors come together to take part in the lighting of the tree and the singing of Christmas carols. Children are especially fond of dancing around the tree linked to one another in big circles, starting with the smallest ones closest to the tree. This is also the day the Christmas exhibition starts in the shops and streets, and you will find children glued to the windows of toyshops where trains carrying Santas go around and around in a loop, and where the newest shiniest toys are displayed for Children to put on their Christmas wish lists.

When I was a little girl I was especially fond of Santa’s Workshop, a huge display in the mall where motorized santas and elves chopped wood, ate porridge and wrapped presents. I was, however, a little scared of the people dressed up as santas with scary plastic masks and fake beard wandering around in the streets handing out oranges and gingerbread men to the kids.

From December first children will open the first door in their Advent Calendars. Some calendars have colorful pictures inside, some have chocolate, but the best ones are the homemade “present calendars”, and I was lucky enough to have one. The whole of November my mother would collect little presents, anything from small toy cars and parts of a lego set (for my brother), colorful fun-shaped erasers, troll pencils or doll furniture (for me), and wrap them in 24 neat presents. These presents she would hang on a homemade calendar. My brother and I had a wooden Santa each with little hooks on, but more common is the embroidered cloth calendars with plastic hooks. Mothers and grandmothers everywhere would sit in late evenings after the children had gone to bed making these beautiful calendars.

Even in school we had an advent calendar. Each child (in Norway a class typically has 22-26 pupils) would bring a small gift, the gifts would be mixed up, hung on the wall and every day we would draw a name from a hat to see who would get to open today’s gift.

From last year’s Christmas Calendar on NRK «Snowfall».

At 6 pm every day of December every Norwegian child (and some adults too) will be glued to the TV. Nrk, our government broadcasting channel, will each December show a Christmas Calendar on TV. Every day there is a new episode which typically ends on a cliffhanger so that you just need to see what happens next. The finale of this show will be on Christmas Eve.

My mother would bake Christmas cookies to last the whole month, and on the four Sundays of advent we would have a fiest of Christmas cookies and other sweets while we lit the advent candle and recited the accompanying poem. Each poem is a prayer for a more loving, peaceful, and kind world. In almost every house in Norway you will see a Christmas star and an advent candle holder throughout December.  Nowadays, most of them run on electricity though, but in the olden days (when my granny was a little girl) they would have real light in them.

« A Scandinavian vintage postcard”

13th December is Saint Lucia Day. This is the darkest night of the year, and Norwegians celebrate it with lights. A procession of kids, girls dressed up as Lucia and boys as star boys, with wreaths of light on their heads will sing the Lucia song while giving cakes (called Lucia cakes) to anyone they meet. Nowadays this is often done in homes for senior citizens.

Us kids eating away at the Christmas cookies.
Around mid-December my grandmother would invite the family for a Christmas workshop. This would typically be on the third Sunday of Advent. The purpose of the workshop was to make Christmas decorations. Days in advance my granny would collect evergreens, holly, moss and cones, and my mother and aunties would bring ribbons, little decorative birds and santas, and we would all make beautiful wreaths and baskets with big candles in them. When the day was coming to an end granny would serve rice porridge with sugar and cinnamon for us kids and pea soup for the adults, followed by coffee and Christmas cookies. All of us six grandchildren used to love this day in particular and would look forward to it every year. When we came home we would hang our wreaths on the door, light our candles and wait impatiently for Christmas to arrive.

To be continued…


Santa Claus

Santa Claus is a Christmas picture book by the Finnish author and illustrator Mauri Kunnas.
This beautiful book is one of those beloved treasures from my childhood. My brother and I read and reread this book to shreds when we were kids, and all of our ideas and stories about Santa came from this book.

In “Santa Claus” we hear about the life of Santa (who is of course Finnish😊)and his helpers and family who live in this magical place called Korvatunturi. We hear and see what is going on in Korvatunturi, not only during Christmas, but year around.

Korvatunturi has of course a school for the little elvin children, a beautiful workshop, a printing press, a community theatre, an orchestra, a reference library, a bakery, a sauna and a concert hall.

We also find out about the spies sent to earth to spy on the children to see if they are behaving properly 😄.

And if you think that all the presents can go on one sleigh then you are highly mistaken for Santa has of course his own private plane! 😄

I cannot praise this book enough! The story and, more importantly the illustrations, are heavenly! Full of little details to feast your eyes on! This book will make the perfect Christmas gift for a little child, or just a delicious addition to your own Christmas Library.

“Santa Claus” is one of many books Mauri Kunnas has written about Christmas and Santa Claus, and my goal is to collect them all, for when I look at these gorgeously cozy illustrations the whole magic of childhood comes flowing back into me. 😊😊😊


Trollhunter is a Norwegian indie film from 2010 directed by Andre Øverdal. This film has already been given a Cult status in Norway. Mind you, this is not a movie for children, even though I would have loved it as a child, but its target audience is teens and adults.
It is filmed in a mock documentary style, a little like Blair Witch Project, and is a presentation of footage filmed by a group of young journalists. The actors in the film are all unknown, except for the trollhunter himself, and it adds to the feeling of it being a documentary. The film is not really scary at all, it’s more funny, especially if you have some pre-knowledge about Norwegian culture and Norwegian trolls. And the trolls themselves are just awesome!

The movie is about a team of students studying to become journalists who set out to make a documentary about this crazy man who claims that he is a trollhunter. The trollhunter is fed up by the government who conceals all traces of trolls, and he wants the public to know what is really going on in the Norwegian forests. Following is a hilarious and brilliant chase, where we get to know a lot about trolls and how they can still be alive!

What I love the most about this film is how thoroughly all the facts are explained, like why the trolls burst in sunlight, what they eat and how they live, all explained by a veterinarian troll expert! I love the descriptions of the different types of trolls, and I love how amazingly brilliant the trolls actually look on screen.

This movie might not be everyone’s cup of tea, as it is VERY Norwegian, but if you like to learn more about other cultures, folklore and the supernatural, then this movie is definitely for you, and I highly recommend it! I would say the movie can be seen by kids from 13 and up, but it depends on the child. I would not have found this movie disturbingly scary as a child, but all children are different. I’d say, if the child enjoys Jurassic Park, he or she can definitely watch this movie. 😊

Of course, five out of five stars! ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

For younger kids, or for all kids of all ages, I would recommend the Dreamworks/ Netflix Series “Trollhunters”. It is an animated series that is, I can’t help but think, slightly inspired by the Norwegian Trollhunter. The storyline is brilliant and the animation awesome!

Tři bratři ( Three Brothers)

Tři bratři is a Czech musical Fairy Tale film from 2014 directed by the wonderful Jan Svěrák. This film is a spinoff of some of our most beloved fairy tales like Sleeping Beauty, also known as Briar Rose, Little Red Riding Hood, and a Czech version of Cinderella. I normally do not like modern musical fantasy films that much, but I adored this film! It might have a little bit to do with the fact that I love the beautiful sing-song Czech language. I especially appreciated the sweet voice of Little Red Riding Hood. And many of the musical scenes had me squealing with delight! 😊😊

This film is not a commercial film, so there are no computerized special effects, well a very very few but nothing to speak of, something that I very much appreciate. I loved all the little well-thought out details, like the witch’s cottage on the murky pond, the big bad wolf, the beautifully folksy decorated inside of Cinderella’s house, and granny’s adorable forest cottage. Everything with its own Czech flair. I also loved the costumes and the beautiful Czech people with their make-up free angelic looks and natural hair. It is a breath of fresh air from the, in my opinion, over-glamorized Hollywood fantasy films with all their high-tech special effects. I also loved how the fairy tales were not made into politically correct modern stories. They were rather made humorous, but not in a mocking way, rather in a sweet deliciously can’t-stop-grinning-ouch-my-cheeks-hurt kind of way.😄

Tři bratři is definitely different, and might not be everyone’s cup of tea, especially those who love big Hollywood productions like the new versions of the Disney classics, but if you, like me, love seeing movies from different countries, to see a glimpse of another way of telling stories, and very unique and beautiful cinematography, then you will definitely appreciate this little gem!

Of course, five out of five stars! ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

A Child’s Life at Sea Part 4

I slowly reach my hand out for my brother. It is so dark I can’t even see where my hand is. Then suddenly I feel something on my foot. ‘There is something on the ground,’ I whisper to my brother. ‘I felt it.’ Then I hear a splash and a croak and several other small splashes. ‘It’s just a frog, dummy,’ laughs my brother. ‘Perhaps you should try kissing it. Maybe it will turn into a prince.’ ‘Yuck!’ I say. ‘You kiss it yourself if you dare.’ But my brother doesn’t fall for that. He just keeps teasing me. I still am not able to find his arm in the dark, but hearing his familiar teasing is kind of reassuring. Then suddenly we hear footsteps behind us.

The sound is heavy and thudding, like it belongs to something really big. I hold my breath. My heart is pounding and I close my eyes, even though it doesn’t make a difference, it is just as dark in the tunnel as it is when I close my eyes. Then suddenly it is quiet again. My brother has stopped his teasing. He must be just as scared as me. I am completely frozen, I can’t even run. Then all of a sudden I feel a big hand on my shoulder and a voice whispers in my ear: ‘Got you!’

‘Daaaaad!’ Complains my brother. ‘I knew it was you!’ A flashlight lights up and I see my father laughing in front of us. My brother looks pale, but he starts laughing too. ‘Good one, dad!’ I want to laugh, but I can’t, my heart is still kind of racing around inside of me. ‘Come on,’ says my father and takes my hand in his. ‘ Let’s go see the canon.’ And we do, and just like that, with my hand in my father’s, I feel safe again, and everything is right in the world.

A Child’s Life at Sea Part 3

‘Did the soldiers really hide in here, daddy?’ ‘Sure did, honey. They used these tunnels to move unseen underground when there was an attack. If you follow the tunnel to the end you will find a lookout post with a canon pointed to the horizon.’ ‘Did they really shoot the bad guys, daddy.’ ‘They had to, honey, there was a war and if they didn’t protect our country, innocent people would die.’ I stare at my father. ‘Did you fight in the war, daddy?’ My father laughs. ‘No, sweetie, the war was long before I was born.’ I feel a little disappointed, I really wanted my dad to be a hero. ‘Come on!’ complains my brother, ‘let’s go inside!’

We are on a small island on the south coast, known to be one of the many military bases during the Second World War. Our boat is docked by the stone pier, and my father has taken me and my brother up to see the tunnels carved deep into the mountain. They go on for kilometers and have no natural, or any other form, of light. But my father has brought a flashlight. My brother is already on his way into the pitch black tunnel. I take my father’s hand and we follow him.

There is water dripping from the ceiling of the tunnel and it makes an eerie drip-drop sound that echoes far into the deep. My father switches on the flashlight, but all we can see is black wet slippery stone walls, uneven and bumpy. The ground is also wet. Our plip-plop footsteps bounce off the wall and disappear into the deep, only to return as a hollow mimic of themselves ten seconds later. The sound makes me think of ghosts dragging their skeleton feet on the ground. My brother seems to think the same because he whispers in my ear: ‘I bet it’s haunted! Soldiers must have died in here, you know.’ I shiver and all of a sudden I feel very cold. I grip my father’s hand tighter. We walk further and further in.

‘If the tunnel collapses now, we’ll be dead,’ whispers my brother. And even though I am sure my father can’t hear him, he just adds to the horror be saying out loud: ‘well kids, we have reached the point of no return. We are further from the entrance than we are from the exist.’ I swallow hard. The flashlight flashes a couple of times, and both my brother and I jump. ‘Hold on, let me just…’ My father lets go off my hand to adjust the batteries in the flashlight. Then all of a sudden it goes completely dark. I want to scream, but for some reason I seem to have lost my voice. My brother on the other hand has not. He lets out a roar, fit for a lion. ‘Daaaaaaaad, what’s going on?’ There is no answer. I desperately reach out for my father’s hand, but it is not there. He is gone. My father is gone, and with him: the flashlight.

To be continued…

A Child’s Life at Sea – Part 2

‘Please don’t let her come, uncle, she is too little!’ My brother complains to our favorite uncle and puts his hands on his hips for emphasis. ‘She can hold the torch,’ says my uncle, and smiles wistfully to me. My brother sighs. ‘ She always gets what she wants.’ I glance at him behind my uncle’s back and stick my tongue out at him. He kicks a pebble so hard it flies into the sea and makes an exquisite plopping sound as it breaks the surface. My uncle looks at him sternly. ‘ You are already scaring the crabs away.’ My brother puts on the Life jacket my uncle hands him. He has a sulky face. ‘ At least I don’t have to wear a baby vest.’ That hits home and I give him one of my angriest glares. I am quite a big girl now, but I still don’t know how to swim and my brother delights in the fact that I have to wear a big chunky bright orange Life Jacket with an oversized collar that hardly lets me turn my head from side to side. ‘ Be kind to your little sister, says my uncle as he lifts me into the dinghy. My brother scowls and climbs in after me.

It is already dark and long past our bedtime, but we have been given special permission to stay up. We are going crabbing. My uncle steers the outboard confidently across the black sea, and the little rubber dinghy practically flies above the tiny white-sprayed currents. I squeal with delight. My father would never drive this fast! The sound of the outboard is the only sound we can hear in the dark early autumn night, and the subtle roar echoes against the cliffs, perfectly silhouetted against the starry sky. ‘ Can I have a go?’ Asks my brother, and to my surprise my uncle agrees. My brother doesn’t drive quite as fast, but I am twice as scared. He is still just a boy and I don’t trust boys to drive boats, even little boats like our Rubber-Linus.

As soon as we approach the steep cliffs my uncle takes over. And a couple of meters off shore he lets the outboard die, and we simply float with the current and the leftover push from the engine up to the cliffs. Now it is completely quiet. Only a few nightbirds screech hauntingly in the dead of night. The ocean splashes eerily against the cliffs, and the sound makes me feel so funny inside, like I am excited and scared, happy and sad at the same time. ‘ You’re up, sweetie,’ says my uncle and hands me the torch. I take it with both hands and switch it on. A white ghostly shadow creeps across the black surface and climbs slowly up the steep cliff. ‘ Now remember,’ says my uncle, ‘ when I tell you to switch off the torch, you have to do so immediately, okay? This is very important. The light will scare the crabs away.’ I nod nervously. ‘ Now point the light at the wall of the cliff right under the surface.’ I do as he says, and my brother and uncle lean over the edge of the dinghy as far as they can and stare into the water to the place I point the light. ‘ I see one! I see one!’ Shouts my brother excitedly. ‘ Hush!,’ scolds my uncle, ‘ you’ll scare it away!’ My brother looks embarrassed and is red all over. ‘ Now quickly, switch off the light!’ He whisper-yells to me, and I fumble with the off-button. I should have been keeping my finger on it all the time, I inwardly scold myself. But apparently I am quick enough, because my uncle has already grabbed the crab by its claw and is now flinging it hurriedly into the boat. The crab immediately goes into attack position with its claws out, and to my horror, it is running sideways towards me. I squeal loudly and jump instinctively unto the inflated rubber-side of the dinghy, but I jump with too much force and before I know it I am splashing around frantically in the water. I scream as loudly as I can and try to pull me feet up against my body. I remember overhearing my uncle telling my father that this place is teeming with crabs. Convinced that they are going to catch my toes in their sharp claws I continue screaming at the top of my lungs.

‘ Stop it! You’ll scare away the crabs!’ Yells my brother just as loudly. My uncle has already managed to get a good grip on the sides of my huge orange baby vest and he hauls me out of the water and back into the boat, much like he just did with the crab. The crab is still running around sideways in the boat and as soon as I see it I start screaming all over again. My uncle lets go of me, grabs the crab by its claw and hurls it back into the sea. Finally I stop screaming.

I can see my brother sulking in the bow of the boat. ‘ I told you not to bring her, ‘ he complains to my uncle. ‘She is such a baby.’ I stick my tongue out at him and make a fearsome grimace. ‘ Come on, ‘ says my uncle, ‘ We’ll better get you home, little one, before you catch pneumonia.’ ‘ Arrrrrgh!’ Says my brother. ‘Can I at least drive?’ He looks hopefully at my uncle. My uncle nods. ‘ Okay, but you better make it fast before your sister catches her death.’ At that my brother’s face lights up and he roars the outboard into life and head out to sea in a fierce pace that makes the water foam excitedly around the prow. I sit shivering in my uncle’s arms, but I smile to myself when I think of the crab happily running about in the bottom of the sea.