Steve in Norway Archives - Benjamin A. Gilman International Scholarship

The Return and Reverse Culture Shock

September 17, 2018

Was it all a dream? Did all of that really happen? How can I even begin to explain to my friends and family back home about my experiences studying in Sápmi? I have identified closely with the stages of reverse culture shock in the past two weeks. I miss the Sámi culture and the closeness I developed with my hosts and random people that became friends. Before returning home home in Northern Illinois, I spent six days with my mother in Oslo which is the largest city in Norway. After studying so closely with the indigenous peoples, it was a shock to be surrounded by so many Norwegians and little evidence of Sámi presence. Spending the time with my mother was wonderful because we got to spend quality time together doing really fun things in a city neither of us had been to before, but I couldn’t eloquently express what I was thinking about after such an intensive month of immersion study. Fortunately the only stories I have to share are happy ones, this program couldn’t have gone any better.

Mom and I Exploring Oslo, Norway

Part of me thinks I will be back there someday…maybe for a holiday or to visit an old friend. Part of me can’t imagine the next time I will ever get the chance to go to this part of the world…will any of those new friendships last the test of time? The last ten days back in small-town Illinois have been excellent, but complicated. I’ve been spending time with family and got to visit an old friend and explore downtown Chicago but mind is trying to adjust to American ways of life…and also knowing that I am leaving to study in Costa Rica soon. As an environmental studies major, I can’t help but find myself comparing the ecological health of place I visited in Norway, the Chicago river I walked beside, the tropic rain-forest I will find myself in for the next month…its too much for me to process in a short amount of time.

Things I have been so happy to have back in America are non-dairy milk options, the overwhelming choices available in any shopping or grocery store, and lower prices compared to Scandinavia, and the beautiful prairies and forests I grew up among. Thing I miss about my host country is the lower population density, vast and lush natural landscapes, being surrounded by foreign languages, and the general nomadic travel component of my particular course, and most of all the people that I got to share enlightening experiences with. The ego check that comes along with culture shock has taught me a lot about myself and what I would like to change.

On a walk in the windy city…the city by the lake…Chicago.

I now know my strengths and weaknesses better than I had a month and a half ago the day I began my international journey. I can also identify qualities in other people in a way that I couldn’t before this experience; I feel like the more people who are different that you meet and interact closely with, the more about human behavior becomes apparent to you. People are so diverse, even among close communities. Generalizing and comparing one culture to another doesn’t do any good, but recognizing those beautiful and challenging uniquenesses is important. I wonder if I will ever see someone wearing the beautifully colored gahkti, or if I will ever eat reindeer or whale, or surf above the arctic circle again? Will the friends I made there ever come to visit me in America? So many people hear a lot about America and want to visit so badly, and I hope to be a good host to anyone who finds their way here.

On a hike enjoying the natural beauty of northern Illinois.

What will I do now? Well…I’m going to be studying in Costa Rica for 23 days! It will be my final course of study for my first bachelor’s degree in Conservation Science and Management from the University of Washington. The course is in environmental science and restoration ecology through the school of environment and focuses on biodiversity and sustainability. I wish I could tell you all about it, but my Gilman International Scholar’s duties have come to an end with this final blog about my experiences in Sápmi. I look forward to seeing sloths, observe hundreds of species within each taxa, to eat exotic fruits, practice Spanish and scientific sketching, and to have the best final class any undergraduate student could ask for!

It’s been a pleasure writing for all of you. Peace.

Then and Now: American in Sápmi

September 7, 2018

Me enjoying the splendor of Sápmi with three locals not pictured

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: The more I learn, the less certain I am about things. Right when I think that I have things figured out, I go and travel to Sápmi to spend time in an immersive learning experience with Sámi communities that challenge all my notions of what I perceive as “true”. Being kind, open, and willing to learn are the three qualities that I began the trip with and the three that I will leave with. Everything else is under consideration because wisdom comes in many forms. My goals of reprogramming my colonized mind have continued during this global experience.

I am a conservation science and management major within the environmental studies program at University of Washington. I wanted to see how the Sámi have managed to survive and thrive in a part of the world (for 14,000ish years!), that to many of us from the United States, imagine as a barren tundra landscape that would be impossible to do anything in. For many months, the sun doesn’t shine; the aurora borealis illuminates the imagination. For a few summer months, that sun shines at all hours of the day; birds sing at midnight and the stars are left for the imagination.

My professional goals have not changed from this experience but rather have been reinforced. My focus has shifted to be more sensitive and supportive to indigenous worldviews that are not my own. In the United States, 1% of the total population are native. Knowing this, I felt encouraged me to seek experiences at a global level before working the rest of my life in a place I am privileged to call home. The connection to land that I have had since I was a small child in rural Illinois is often validated by the worldviews of people who value life over capitalism despite the fact that I myself am not indigenous at all. Being a product of immigration from all across the globe, I sought knowledge from these communities that may inform me on how I can be a better indigenous ally throughout my career as a land manager, conservationist, and member of civic society.

Because after all, these indigenous peoples and their communities ARE STILL HERE. The colonized mindset of western thought not only continues to find ways to forcefully engage in land acquisition, cultural appropriation, and ethnic erasure but also tends to paint the picture that these people are in the past. Moreover, I became more aware that this poisonous, imperialist worldview assumes that unless indigenous peoples are living in “teepees”, wearing animal pelts, not using electricity, or whatever, then they must not be traditionally indigenous anymore. Does the colonizer really think that a people who have constantly innovated for 14,000 years would stop innovating during a time in history when innovation has spiked to unimaginable heights? This is insensitive and naïve, and this fact has been made crystal clear to me after this month of study.

To many Americans and other economic “winners” who have read this far, I imagine that their blood pressure has increased and they are formulating a few arguments in response to what I am writing. To me, that is a step in the right direction even though it seems counterintuitive. The more we actually engage in dialogue about these matters, the more visible these matters become in public perception. Why didn’t everyone know what was happening at Standing Rock in South Dakota? Why doesn’t everyone know that Sámi have established a moratorium along the biggest river between Norway and Sweden to protest environmental and human rights violations? Not enough people are aware of it, so they cannot engage in dialogue as humans should. I’m not saying that we have to dismantle our current system entirely and I’m not saying I do not appreciate all of the advantages and comforts afforded to me as an American. I’m just affirming that there is a lot of work to do to change our world to one where humans, especially those whose ancestral lands have been stolen from them, continue to be swept under the rug in the interest of capital gain by exploiting natural resources and to build national pride.

Once again, I cannot be certain of anything. But neither can anyone reading this blog. We are only human, and the totality of existence exceed our capabilities to comprehend all of its intricacies. However, it is an absolutely certainty that last week climate in and around Tromsø where I was staying had the highest night time temperature in recorded history. The gulf stream is projected to completely changed direction due to human-induced climate change which will decimate any change of maintaining agriculture along the Arctic coast in winter. Windmill fields are being protested in the Tundra because of how they will disrupt reindeer herding patterns that have been ongoing for millennia. A short anecdote I will share is when a wonderful Sámi couple told me how the Norwegian government offered their people $10,000,000 for ownership of a mountain that they wanted just so they could tear it apart with machines for mining. The Sámi response was that absolutely no amount of money will ever equal the value of a MOUNTAIN, and a sacred mountain at that.

I will leave the readers with this final idea, and keep in mind that I, myself, am a straight white male who is a product of immigration that seeks employment with the government to manage the lands we, as human animals, rely on: Imagine if every national and state park was no longer managed solely by the American government but instead by indigenous peoples who have historically inhabited those spaces for thousands and thousands of years while being supported by the American government financially through taxation derived from people just like you and me? Do you really think things would devolve and we would lose the “grandeur” that makes those places the aesthetically beautiful and enlightening spaces we have come to think of them? And finally, how would you feel if people started finding pleasure in hiking up and down churches, temples, and other built environments that are holy to a certain culture just so they could take a picture of themselves at the top for everyone on the internet to see?

THIS is how you do college.

“how worthless even the most beautiful words…how fragile what one secretly feels…it was not the wind…you did not hear the bird…it was I…my thoughts” – Neils-Aslak Valkeapää, Sámi artist and activist, from his book Trekways of the Wind.

The only souvenirs I need

Surfing, fishing, and travelling through Sacred Landscapes of Sápmi

August 12, 2018

I lay in my tent reflecting on the past week at the Sámi cultural festival, Márkomeannu. I have traveled on buses, ferries, cars, and with my own two legs. I am exhausted and at the same time pulsing with the special energy that comes from being in new, sacred landscapes.

Fortunately for me, my immersive experiences since my previous blog were of an environmental theme which corresponds with my current studies in Conservation Science and Management. I believe that it is important for future land managers like myself to gain insights into indigenous worldviews and ways of life in this post-modern era. In doing so, we will become a more well informed ally to those communities whom have had, and still have, their lands stolen by colonial interests.
By seeing so much of the landscape in such a short amount of time, it is easy to admire the incomparable aesthetic beauty of the mountains, fjords, forests, and waterways. It is easy to forget that these visually pleasing places are sacred in ways a tourist or even a student like myself will never fully understand. These places do not only exist in Sápmi (Norway), or course, but across the globe. I assume my North American readers can make the connection between these words and similar places in the USA. In fact, many of the federal, state, and locally managed ecosystems are places where indigenous peoples had lived sustainably for hundreds if not thousands of years.
To make my point clearer, I’d like for you to imagine yourself enjoying a hike in Yosemite Valley or another one of your favorite hiking destinations. You become captivated by the beauty of the landscape and enjoy your solitude. But what is missing? What is missing are all of the human beings that ought to still occupy those spaces, the indigenous communities.

Of course. I was not only travelling – I was surfing…

That’s right, surfing above the arctic circle. As part of my comparative indigenous studies Coursework, I spent some time learning about surfing as a traditional Hawaiian sport that has been appropriated and eventually globalized for its obvious fun. It is important to think about how Hawaiian peoples had their land occupied by settler colonialism and their sacred beaches, fishing habitats, and surf spots stolen. An interesting point to note is that Hawaiian masculinity was more fluid and in a sort-of monarchical system that was expressed in surfing. When the sport was appropriated, it was marketed with images of machismo white males dominating the surf while overly sexualized images of women admire from afar in their hula skirts and other misused clothing. So, I spent time in a place here in Sápmi where Sámi peoples had historically used for fishing, but is now a primarily Norwegian community where a world famous surf club hosts tourists, surfers, and Hollywood filmmakers. I did rent a surf board. I did take advantage of their saunas. I did not manage to stand up on the board once! But I had so much fun trying. After all, life is about having fun while gaining knowledge and increasing ones consciousness.

And, of course, I was not only surfing- I went fishing…

After the surf weekend, I traveled again and stayed was with Lars, a Sámi activistm educational leader and prominent political figure. He helps to operate one of the only language centers in the country, works with the community to solve domestic family struggles, and is a musician that Yoiks, or sings in the traditional Sámi style, beautifully alongside his guitar accompaniments. He and his friend, Sven, who happens to be a top-tier member of the Sámi Parliament (Sámediggi) took some of my colleagues and I on a fishing trip in their ancestral waters. We pulled up cod and pollok at a rate I have never experienced, sometimes three fish on a single line. This blew me away, mostly because of how the environmental conditions of a place directly determine how well the fish population does. The next day, I received three amazing lectures by these men about the environmental impacts of off shore oil drilling and mining from an indigenous perspective. I love how this program has bridged the divide between in-class lectures and immersive, experiential learning because both serve different needs and foster different dialogues that compliment each other so well.

The final notable experience that I will mention for this blog was being hosted by Márit, an expert in indigenous sacred landscapes, spirituality, and world religions. She is good friends with the Dali Lama after being an activist with Tibetan refugees years ago. It was important for me to gain a perspective on how places that someone like me might think of as just a good hiking or swimming spot are also an important spiritual center for the community that has lived there for ages. She mentioned many sites across Sápmi, and also throughout Europe and even Australia, where a sacred mountain will officially be closed off to hikers next year. Land management where I have worked always focused on the ecological and conservation sciences approach to managing land, so it was enlightening to become more aware of how I can serve as an ally to indigenous peoples in this way of managing sacred lands that may currently be in the ownership of the US government. Mount Rainier, for example, isn’t even called Mount Rainier! Its true name is Talol or Tahoma, but has been renamed. Native American tribal nations have been and are currently working through the legal system to have the name changed back officially.
I am learning SO. MUCH.

Riddu Riđđu – A Small Storm On The Coast

July 27, 2018

Welcome to Riddu Riđđu (translates to Small Storm On The Coast) – the international indigenous music, arts, and culture festival in Kafjord, Sapmi. Though the festival is hosted by the Sāmi community, it is in this place that my scholarship was immersed in traditions gathered from around the globe – to offer solace and an opportunity to decolonize our Western ways of perception.

As I stand before the grand valley, I am to behold the glory of this summer: birds are at play, mountains stand righteous, a river slithers down and out into a distant lake. Some still snore while others brush their teeth – joy and community permeating the human collective.

Overlooking the festival grounds after a long night

The morning that “the storm” was to ensue, I find myself joining some of my colleagues in a familial stroll down the mountain with one goal: coffee and food. The scenery is nearly too much to bear, reminiscent of the Pacific Northwest where I currently study but altogether it’s own. We are home and not home; strangers but not strangers.

After breakfast, I wander about a festival ground beaming with a prismatic luminescence – Gakti clothe the Sami, their contrasting colors dazzling. The clouds break and the Sapmi sun warms my being as I mosey past one lavvu (portable Sami dwelling) after another where Joik courses, tea ceremonies, documentary showings, and metal smithing may be ensuing at any given time.

A theatrical performance from Greenland draws my attention, the female performer taunting the audience with her grotesque makeup, wild barking, and sexual deviance on display. What could this all mean? I sit beside an old man as we admire the woman as she moves to a drum played by her troupe mate. After the performance, I spoke with her for a half an hour over tea brewed with fresh flowers. She explains how her people would use these performances to instill courage and understanding of the ways of things to their children. These children would soon be expected to drive a spear into the heart of a polar bear to support their community…a situation where fear will not serve them.

Later on, I find myself in a lavvu (kind of a north American teepee) with a professor from UiT who held the largest registry of yoiks in the world. The yoik is uniquely Sami where the performer does not own the song, but rather is more a voice through which the yoik itself is able to enter the sensory realm. One does not make a yoik about their friend, one yoiks their friend. One does not composed a yoik that is for the wolf – one yoiks the wolf. Being a musician myself, I was eager to better understand the structures and differences between the various Sami communities whose geographic spaces influence the ways in which they yoik. After all, the sound of place is the title of this course and the yoik is my primary subject of study.

Inside the yoik archive llavu with a distinguished literary professor

After a power nap and reindeer kabab, the opening ceremony began. After welcoming all in English, the Minister of culture, Trine Skei Grande, continued her speech in Norwegian. It is the first time the minister has been to the festival and it is an opportunity for a representative of the nation state of Notway to gain insight into various parts of the festival program.

And then…the music began. The first performance was comprised of a very traditional series of yoik. “Zoya Nosova, born on Motka Bay, now living in Verkhnetulomskiy is the last native speaker of the language and all its dialects. It was an honor for us all”.

Next was my personal favorite of the evening – Suõmmkar. “Suõmmkar is a new skolt sámi band with Leu’dd perfomers Anna Lumisalmi and Hanna-Maaria Kiprianoff in front. Lumisalmi and Kiprianoff represent the new generation of leu’dd performers. The band aims to both record and publish leu’dd, and has started recording their first album”. The instrumentation in combination with yoik elevated me; shepharding me into a transcendental state. Babies were smiling, old folk danced, life was good.

The next performance was by Resirkulert, a local band of young Sami men that had all the young girls running to the front of stage. This is one future of yoik, where contemporary pop and alternative-rock style provides the foundation for uplifting, boyish crooning. In their final song, the singer told the audience that this song will be a yoik of his grandfather whom he owes his Sami education and identity most strongly to. And might I say, his vocal performance was best when he was evoking his indigenous truths.

Between performances we would visit the beer garden, discussing the music and politics over Sami Pale Ale by Mark Microbrewery. My colleagues and I were growing closer with one another and with new friends from all around this world.

The next performer may be one that my North American readers are familiar with. DJ Shud, formerly a member of A Tribe Called Red, is from Six Nations of the Grand River in Canada who were ´Northern Indigenous peoples of the year ´ in 2015. He combines EDM with native vocalization and percussion to synthesis something all it’s own. After ten minutes of the crowd pleasantly watching in place, his ‘hype man’ in neo-traditional headdress and garb lept off the stage and into the center of the crowd. This is when the PowWow began. Everyone was moving to the beat, creating a circle within which concert goers would take their turn at dancing. A “conga line” line ensued where happy sweaty people held hands and revolved around a common center. DJ Shud truly brought the people at Riddu Riddu together, opening the hearts and minds of all.

DJ Shud’s hype man leading the powwow

The final performance of day 1 was by Biru Baby. Biru Baby describes themselves as “a revolutionary band with bizarre style and a unique sound image from the ice-cold Finnmark tundra”. “When you go to a Biru Baby concert”, says the MC, “you never know what you’re going to get…but you know it’s going to be good”. High energy, choreographed dance, pitch corrected vocalization, sexualized, punk rock, pompous, and “new” are words that come to mind. They command the stage while masked female dancers wave the Sāmi flag.

The stage presence of Biru Baby

The following two days were filled with a growing population of festival goers as well as the eclectic representation of culture through music and art from nearly all parts of the world. Baker Boy – an aboriginal rapper, Tyva Kyza – the only Tuvan throat singing ensemble comprised of women (a defiance of gender role expectations meeting culturally traditional music), and Marie Boine – the Sāmi “Beyonce” (or is Beyonce the American “Marie Boine”..?).

I saw a Sāmi hip-hop dancer put on a special performance with two Māori dancers from Aotearoa (New Zealand). I heard the “Young Artist of the Year”, Ánná Káisá Partapuoli perform Sāmi slam-poetry. I made friends with two really nice guys from Spain and they shared their sandwiches with me. I even ate whale meat which, as an environmentalist, never thought I would ever do (Minke whales are not endangered, but rather abundant in the waters in which they are fished, so in terms of conservation it isn’t an ecological crime). It tasted like fish steak.

Each night I’d make a quick stop at the party camp and Club Lavvu to meet locals, practice the language, and have an all-around great time. And every night, I made the lone journey up the hill and into the little tent where ear plugs and eye mask cleansed the sensory pallet. What we have all done is taken a leap into what felt like an alternate universe where sound decolonized our perceptions of what arts, culture, and life itself are. I believe that holding these types of international indigenous festivals in the United States would encourage everyone to broaden their minds and experience beautiful modes of living.

Departure and Initial Adjustments in Sāpmi.

July 11, 2018

Greetings Earthlings! Please allow me to introduce myself and the focus of my studies. My name is Steve Guardi, originally from the village of Johnsburg in northern Illinois and currently finishing up my bachelor’s degree in Conservation Science and Management at the University of Washington. It is a pleasure to be representing the Gilman International Scholarship Program through the Gilman Global Experience Blog. I will be reporting on my immersive studies with the indigenous Sāmi communities in Sāpmi (or Norway as the “land of the Sāmi” is so named today). Rather than using the nation state’s name of Norway to represent this place, I will insist on referring to it as Sāpmi.

With the intention of broadening my western education with traditional ecological knowledge from across the globe, I will be focusing my research on the ways in which the Sāmi are connected to the land, their use of place-based song, and their struggle to retain their identities in a world that is still facing the onslaught of colonization and assimilation. Records show that the Sāmi people first inhabited this part of the arctic sometime between 11,000 and 10,000 BCE, so naturally it would make sense to assume they have a good idea of how humans ought to interact with the natural world.

First day of class!

My journey to Sāpmi was atypical and full of anxiety that is outside of what people are expected to feel before travelling internationally. Of course, I was nervous about the language barrier, the cost of living, making friends, and learning everything that I had hoped for…but some major travel hiccups nearly destroyed any chance I had of even making it to Sāpmi and made those normal anxieties feel quite insignificant.

Long story short, my first plane was seven hours late due to a thunderstorm so I missed my flight from Newark to Oslo. After spending the night wandering around the airport searching for my checked bag after agent after agent sent me one wild goose chase after another, I finally made it to Oslo a day late. I had an hour between landing and catching my final flight to Tromsø, and the folks to attach the bridge to the plane were having difficulties for thirty minutes. I made it to my final flight just in time and enjoyed one of the most scenic flights I have ever been fortunate enough to witness.

Once in Tromsø, I found myself waiting at the baggage claim for a checked bag that never arrived. It has been nearly one week without my backpack with tent, sleeping bag, vitamins, clothing, and all of the other items that would enable me to feel comfortable in a foreign land. Nearly all of the things that make me feel “at home” are potentially never going to enter my life again. I hope to have them returned soon because I leave in three days for the international indigenous music festival, Riddu Riddu, where camping is essential.

View of the planetarium, mountains, and harbor from the bus stop.

However, I did not come to Sāpmi to worry about my checked luggage and be filled with anxiety. So what if all I have are sweatpants? I’m in Sāpmi as a scholar and Gilman blogger! These things are completely out of my control at this point, and accepting when you do not have control is worthwhile endeavor if you aim to become a calm, low maintenance, and self-actualized individual. It was finally time to experience all that this place has to offer, this is what I have been looking forward to for months.

One word every student must learn – Sterk means Strong!

Finding your way along the hiking trails can be challenging if you do not know Norwegian.

Culture shock set in when I had to do simple day-to-day tasks like getting a new SIM card and buying groceries- everything is written in Norwegian, the currency is in krones, and nearly every brand is one that I have never seen before. Sure, everyone here speaks English as well as two other languages, so asking for help isn’t impossible to someone like me who knows absolutely no Norwegian. But am I really going to ask someone how Frukt isTe vannmelon juice tastes? No way, there’s only one way to find out! Sweet cheese? Lemme at it! Wait, grocery stores aren’t open on Sunday? I can’t purchase alcohol after 6pm on weekdays and 3pm Saturdays? The university that is hosting me has its own ski jumps, planetarium, and botanic garden. Our dorms rooms have a sauna, but a bottle of Coca-Cola will cost you $9. The sun doesn’t set? That’s right, we have 24 hours of daylight in the Sāpmi summer. Things are different, but I think I love it!

One of my main goals outside of my academic pursuits is to meet as many locals as possible and make long lasting friendships. I have already been getting along with that goal very well, as I managed to meet a graduate student majoring in plant ecology from Spain. By chance we had breakfast together in the dorms, and then lunch, and then he invited me out with him and his friends. I spent the evening with wonderful new friends, exploring the town and making small talk with anyone we could. There was a rumor that Norwegians can be introverted and standoffish, but I have yet to experience that quality in a single person I have approached.

Traditional meal at Lisa’s home with new friends and colleagues.

Apart from our course lectures presented by both University of Washington professors as well as UiT (The Arctic University of Norway Norwegian: Universitetet i Tromsø) literary scholars, my study group was invited to a traditional Sāmi meal by one of my professor’s colleagues, Lisa, and Lisa’s niece, Aila. She prepared blood cakes for us. What’s a blood cake? It’s basically reindeer blood mixed with meat, spices, something to hold it together, and molded into a sort-of dumpling around a center of diced bacon. As a vegetarian, the idea of a blood cake terrified me.

Did I eat it? Absolutely. How often in my life will I eat blood cakes prepared by a wonderful Sāmi woman whose recipe is only so because she had a mother who taught her what her mother had taught her, and on back through the generations? Were they good? I must say, yes. I ate every bit of it, and it was absolutely delicious while also being unlike anything else I have ever tasted. Not only was it simple nourishment, it was an example of Sāmi identity that has, much like the language, been retained throughout all of their struggles against colonizers.

We spent the rest of the evening drinking wine, sharing our life stories, and learning from Lisa aspects of Sāmi spirituality that I will take to the grave with me, as it would be inappropriate to reveal to the world at large such intimate familial knowledge.

Possibly my favorite garden on campus. One must be careful, the seagulls are rearing young, so they are guarding their turf!

My journey has only just begun, and I am having an incredible time. Sure, I faced some setbacks, but I’ve always thought of myself as resilient and ever-positive. So far this state of mind has served me well this first week in Sāpmi. Stay tuned for my next blog where I will move away from my personal experiences and more into the Sāmi culture as represented at the three-day international indigenous music festival, Riddu Riddu.

Application for GILMAN and GILMAN-MCCAIN ends in {day} Days : {hour} Hours : {min} Min: {sec} Sec

Application for GILMAN and GILMAN-MCCAIN ends in {day} Days : {hour} Hours : {min} Min: {sec} Sec

Footer