Leaving Canada

A short memoir of moving to Norway to work, almost 40 years ago.

My second flight over the Atlantic, from Calgary through Montreal and Copenhagen to Stavanger, Norway will take almost 12 hours.

The first flight was some five months earlier, on a vacation in the Netherlands, Germany, Austria, Switzerland and France. That journey was enough to convince me that I wanted to live and work in Europe, at least for a while.

Upon my return, I began investigating opportunities in my trade as a drilling fluids engineer, usually referred to in the oil field as a mud man. I notified my work that I was interested in a transfer. I wrote to competitor companies, phoned others, and stumbled across an ad for an opening in Norway, by the company I was employed with, they were not aware I was looking to move. It would appear my boss never forwarded the application.

Those hurdles were jumped over, I went to interviews and medical testing in Houston and was made an offer which I accepted then and there.

I visited the Norwegian Consulate, interviewed and applied for a permit to work offshore on the Norwegian continental shelf. Six weeks later my visa arrived, and I arranged my flight.

In February, I boarded the plane, one suitcase, and one backpack accompanying me. Other items had been packed in a big trunk, which would be sent by sea a few weeks later. All my worldly goods except for my motorcycle and my firearms, packed down to next to nothing.

The flight to Montreal was full, and this plane was to continue to Copenhagen after a brief stopover. When it left Montreal it was nearly empty. I sat back and relaxed, wondering what lay ahead of me, what had I done, was this a good decision?

Drinks were cheap, so I ordered them on a regular basis. This was long before in-flight movies. On one trip, the stewardess, because that is what they were called back then, suggested I move to first class. There was a party going on up there, everyone in steerage was asleep. I happily joined, and spent an enjoyable evening laughing and joking with high society. After all, the drinks up here were free!

This all seemed to be a grand idea, at the time. But nothing brings a hangover on faster than dealing with a time zone change of six hours from Montreal. It was a bit after midnight by my clock, a bit after six AM at the airport in Copenhagen. Seeing people trudging off to catch early flights, airport workers arriving for their shifts, dreary looking, tired, just killed whatever buzz I had going.

Back then crossing a border or entering a country was a much more streuous occasion than it is now in Europe. Visions of all those old cold war spy movies rolled through my head as the immigration officer asked me the purpose of my visit and how long I planned to stay. I assured him I was only in transit, and was leaving in the mid-afternoon. Stamped, and cleared, I leave the terminal. I had decided to kill the four or five hours by looking around downtown.

I caught an airport bus and journeyed in to the city centre. I was used to streets that run at right angles to each other, and these roads going off willy nilly, snaking and curving, rattled me a little. I was lost in the northern Alberta bush on a hunting trip a couple of years before. That scared me enough that ever since I always look for landmarks, in order to be able to return.

As it was February, and also early in the day, many attractions were closed for the season or not open yet. I browsed around, listening to the Danish voices. I knew Danish and Norwegian are sister languages, if this is what Norwegian sounds like I am truly fucked. Everything was one big round vowel, no consonants I could detect at all. Oh man! What have you gotten yourself into?

I returned to the airport, and caught my flight on SAS to Stavanger. After being on Air Canada these SAS stewardesses were breathtakingly beautiful. So, maybe I have made a good choice after all. We will have to see.

The flight was short, we touched down at the airport at Sola, outside my new home. I was so surprised to see hard bunkers and F 5 fighter jets all along the runway. I did not realize the air force shared air strips with civilian flights. This would lead to many adventures, I would discover later.

I arrived in immigration, tense, not sure what to expect. I had been a tourist in Europe before, never arriving to live and work. The permits were difficult to get, and valuable. A cursory glance at my papers, a reminder I could only work on the rigs, and a rubber stamp and a postage type stamp were put on one page and I was waved through. His English was better than that of most of the guys I worked with on the rigs.

I go into the baggage hall, and wait for my bags. Is there anything quite as tense as that feeling when you have entrusted your worldly goods to multiple airlines and stand at the luggage belt wondering if they made it? When they finally arrive, I gather them and exit to the arrivals area.

I had faxed flight information to my new boss, and had been told I would be met. Standing around like an idiot, I looked at everyone in the hall that was vaguely American looking, wondering if they were Charlie.

After about 45 minutes of this I decided they hadn't got the fax. I did have an office phone number, walked up to a pay phone and was stymied. I had no coins, and had I, the instructions would have stumped me.

I panicked a little. What now? Damn! I saw a friendly looking gate agent, a guy about my age at a check in desk. I walked up and using my best learned Norwegian phrase "Snakker du engelsk?" opened the conversation. He smiled and answered me in English with an Oxford tinged accent that he did. As it turned out he and I would end up becoming friends, some months later.

I explained my dilemma. He took my phone number and called it from the desk phone. The call was answered. He handed the phone to me, and I told the voice on the other end who I was.

"Damn! I marked it down that you arrived tomorrow. I am ten minutes away, I will be right there."

He arrived and took me to the office. There was no hotel booked for tonight . As this was the early days of the oil boom none were to be had.  Charlie phoned numerous place, with no result. Finally, success! He found a room.

There is a room at the Sjømennshiem. That means Seaman’s Home. Charlie apologizes abjectly for having to put me there, but any port in a storm is better than none. We climbed in the car and head downtown.

The place catered to merchant marine sailors, and got some rough trade for clientele. Charlie takes me to the restaurant, and we order a beer and dinner. Norwegian cuisine and presentation certainly don't rank with that of the Michelin Guide places I had frequented in France or Germany, but the beer was cold, the fish was fresh and the boiled potatoes huge.

We parted ways, I was to be picked in the morning by Bill, who arrived a couple of months before me, and who I had met in Houston.

I headed to my room. The elevator was tiny, like a phone booth, and frightening to ride. The room was on the second floor, on the corner and had windows on two sides. It was a block from the harbor, the scent of the sea, fish, heavy bunker fuel, all of these came in through the open window.

Beat, jet lagged, a little overwhelmed, I laid down on the bed, and drifted off. I was woken an hour or so later by loud voices, and the sound of a bottle breaking. I looked out the window to the street corner below.

The bar must have closed, and disgorged its complement of drunken sailors and the women of the night they attract. They were arguing, and singing, and cavorting about. All I could think of was pirates in the old tales I read as a child.

I went back to the bed, laid down again, put my hands behind my head and said to myself "I think I am going to like it here."

Reviews

[MomzillaNC]

This reads like it's very current to you.

NOTES: The following should probably end with a question mark: "I sat back and relaxed, wondering what lay ahead of me, what had I done, was this a good decision?"

I recommend increasing the font size to 14pt. It will shorten the lines and make the copy easier to follow.

[NoelHC]

It does seem as vivid to me as it did almost 40 years ago, indeed. Comments duly noted, and I shall attend to those forthwith.
Thanks

[MomzillaNC]

You're welcome.

[speckledbyrd]

Despite the fact that you said this was what, 40 years ago?, this entirely reminds me of a late 80s early 90s movie that I can't quite place. Either way it's an exciting tale! I've always wanted to up and move to Europe. :)

[NoelHC]

Thank you for your visit and your kind words.

[Pryde Foltz]

Great slice of life tale … be bumped up to first class … think that is just an urban legend these days. I have been to Europe twice, lucky duck that I am, but never to the Scandinavian countries … would love to see Norway.

[NoelHC]

I have to travel to Europe at least once a year, and some years three or more times. In the lead up to Vancouver 2010 Olympics, my duties had be back and forth to Europe from 2007 to 2010 just before the Games. I was bumped on a regular base as I traveled alone. It was not too hard to take.
Once on a Lufthansa flight I was bumped at check in. Instead of a "priority" tag on the bag such as Air Canada does, Lufthansa tags it with "Hot", my wife asked the young lady checking me in what the "Hot" meant, the girl, obviously quick witted, and with poor vision told her, "Well, your husband is so cute" I cracked up laughing over that one.

[Skai Rain]

Great story! I have to leave Canada soon for a job so I enjoyed the read just that much more. Thanks for sharing.

[NoelHC]

Thank you for stopping in, it was an exciting time for me, and I did end up living in Europe for about 7 years. When I returned to Canada, I lived in Newfoundland for 4 more years before returning to the prairies. It seemed more like Europe than Canada there in a number of ways.

[Jennie Baron]

To get the nitpicky things out of the way, A.H. has a good point about rewording that one sentence. I'm not quite so picky about commas unless they change the meaning of the writing. I suggest changing verb tense so that it is consistent.

The story itself is absorbing because you've certainly had interesting life experiences compared to mine (I never left North America and barely set foot in Mexico) and you tell the stories expertly. True stories can be better than fiction. Well done! I don't know how I missed this one, but thanks JJ for the RR.

[NoelHC]

Thanks for checking this out, I am pleased you enjoyed it. Ah, verb tense, or as one of my friends puts it "your tendency to time travel". : ) I am guilty as charged. When KL Goode and I wrote the erotica together she was the keeper of the document, and I drove her crazy with my tense shifting. I will make AH's easy corrections, and then look this over for "time travel".

[A. H. Pinley]

I put in notice at my work that I was interested in a transfer. (Consider rewording this sentence to smooth it out. I notified my work that I was interested in a transfer.) After all(,) the drinks up here were free! Not bad! I can imagine what it would be like being on foreign land for employment. Thanks for sharing.

[NoelHC]

Thank you for reading, and those are both good points I will fix that up. It was very interesting working internationally, I returned to Norway in 2012 for vacation, it had changed a great deal in 43 years!

[Matching Socks]

That was a very natural, smooth flow.
Enjoyed that? What comes next? :)

[NoelHC]

Thanks, Anče, glad you liked it. This is part of a memoir I am writing for my kids, and grand kids, so they know some of the things I did, and places I went when I was young. The next story to follow immediately after this is called "First Day" as I explore my new found home. A few months after arriving there, I was on an offshore production platform, there was an explosion and fire, which I describe in the story "Ekofisk Alpha" I haven't written any more of these stories yet, I lived in Scotland, Iran and Newfoundland, and have a number of adventures to record of those places. The other memoir piece is "The Funeral"

The remainder of my writing on here is short stories or chapters that will be collected in a novel I am working on, or else poems I intend to use in those chapters, as headings.

[Matching Socks]

What a great idea!

[NoelHC]

Which one? the memoirs for the kids? or my own poems as intro pieces for my chapters? : )

[Matching Socks]

Ha! The memoirs. :)
Well both actually.

[NoelHC]

When I started to write last year, I realized I knew very little of my father's stories, and almost nothing of his father's past. I will be sure I pass my tales on. Well except for what the message was in that text message I got in y poem "Phone" ; )

[NoelHC]

*my poem etc Dooof!

[Matching Socks]

Lol! :) yeah, that might be one to leave out. ;)

[melissa]

Amazing story keep up the great work and keep sending me more to read i love reading them