The Fourth of July

July 4th

Gail and I flew to Norway the evening of The Fourth of July.  We had a bargain airfare on Norwegian Airlines.  Later we were informed by our hosts that Norwegian Air always was a bargain.  And that we probably could have waited a day and paid the same price.  But the price looked great to us at the time.  So we took it.  Off to Oslo we went.

A young Buddhist from Poland sat next to us on the 787.  He'd been traveling in America, attending a variety of Buddhist camps and conventions.  It was time for him to start work in England.  He'd earned an economics degree in Poland.  His job was in finance, at a firm in London.  A week earlier the U.K. had voted to leave the European Union.  The young man was a little unclear about how all that was going work out.  Right at the moment, he was most concerned about the takeoff being delayed.  He didn't want to miss the Boston Fireworks show.

It turned out we caught the fireworks after all.  We saw them in the distance as the plane headed out over the Atlantic.  The flight was a little late arriving in Norway, but nothing serious.  The crew resembled the way it works on a cruise ship.  The pilot and the officers all were Norwegians.  The stewards were Malaysian.  Our hosts in Norway explained later that if you want the knock-out blondes you need to book SAS.  It didn't matter to us.  It was a red-eye and we slept most of the way.

We gained a quick education about the Schengen Area at the Oslo airport.  The Buddhist carried an EU passport and sailed right through.  For the most part everyone else lined up for an interview with a security officer.  The group in front of us was from the Middle East.  That conversation took a while.  Then it was our turn.  "Why are you in Norway?"  I started to say "vacation."  Gail beat me to the punch.  "My husband has relatives here.  We're going to visit them.  He's never been here before.  We really are looking forward to meeting everybody!"

"Ramsley is not a Norwegian name."

That wasn't enough to hold us on.  But it made you wonder.  I shrugged my shoulders and told him, "What do I know.  I'm an American."  The security officer gave a dim look and shrugged his shoulders too.  Then away we went.