Welcome to the Norwegian wood.

Norway and Oslo welcomed me with a shining but cold sun. Everything around is green, there are lots of apple trees and you can see a villa every 100 metres. There are beautiful gardens and parks with swings (3ala shan el dunya zay el murge7a fee norweeg bardo) and jumping mattresses, and everybody goes cycling, and the air is so clean that you hear your lungs swearing against you for all the cigarettes smoked so far.
But there is an embarassing silence. Streets are empty and the few people that you can see are not talking loudly or better not talking at all. It so silent that you can hear the bycycle wheels and the leaves moved by the wind. That is why I always need music in my headphones. It is like when you are with someone who you are not familiar with and you try to say anything to avoid the embarassment of the silence.

I've settled in my flat. Tommy, the owner's best friend, took me there. He works as a wine-taster and I felt he considers me a bit exotic as he kept asking me about Italian words and customs.
There is a nice courtyard outside the building with children games, tables and wooden houses on the trees. The ones that we have always seen in television and always dreamt when we were children and then all that we got was the cement pavement outside our 10 floor building.
In the flat there is a massive kitchen equipped with all you can imagine. Christoph, the owner, is a researcher in Asian Studies and loves cooking, so the cupboards are filled with every kind of spices, mugs, pots and more. I thought it is quite a stereotype to travel with "Norwegian wood" by Murakami in my bag, but then is the first book I've seen in his kitchen bookshelf.
My room is nice but is completely white. I've soon hanged up my Egyptian decorations (the string of  flowers, Sisi and the golden traycloth) but they look a bit out of place in the IKEA-white background. There is a massive window giving on the street and...a sink. Yes, a sink, like the ones you have in the bathroom. But just in the middle of the bedroom. Because I could get thirsty at night, I was said.  
But there other typical Norwegian details in the house that i can't still understand. Such as: showers have no shower tray (I thought that was more an Egyptian peculiarity). Also, you have to switch on the kitchen stoves with a touch pad, as a laptop, but then I guess my finger is either too violent or too gentle, because until now I've vehemently called Jesus Christ several times only to make a coffee. But the strangest thing, wallahi, is that the washing machine is in common with rest of the building tenats, downstairs in the cellar and you have to book it some days before. That means that washing  my underwear and my clothes would become a particular occasion for me, like birthdays or job-interviews, the ones you have to write on your agenda.

At university I've been given an office with a computer, and a bookshelf. I'll soon receive a new laptop and an anti-depressing lamp which artificially reproduces the day light, to be used in the months in which it will be always dark. I was making fun of this thing yesterday, while I was having dinner in a friend's flat, with some Norwegians, but those Norwegians were not laughing, rather, one of them told me: "Those anti-depressing lamps prevent suicide in winter. I think you will seriously need it in November". Brrr.

I'm spending lots of time alone. Ma3a nafsy. At home. In my office. Or walking. But I still feel ok with it. Mainly because I feel that all my "family of friends" is emotionally with me. And then because I need to realize what happened in the last few months.

And when I awoke, I was alone
This bird has flown
So I lit a fire
Isn't it good Norwegian wood?
(Norwegian wood, The Beatles)