Go Norway

Dear Friends,

Ten years ago I traveled to Norway on a prayer. The prayer went something like: I hope the people I’m staying with are nice and not serial killers. I was a broke grad student, and I relied on couchsurfing and hitchhiking to get around.

Couchsurfing is always a bit of a gamble. Although there’s a review system (similar to Airbnb, only with the expectation that you interact with your hosts), I honestly would probably never let my own daughter do this without first running an extensive background search on everyone.

You just never know.

The first person I reached out to was a Bergen resident named Patrick. He wrote me a kind reply, saying that he was unavailable to host, but offered to keep in touch.

I ended up having a memorable trip with a group of young international travelers and a pair of Norwegian empty-nesters who seemed glad to have visitors the same age as their grown children. They took us out on their boats, didn’t kill us (yay!) and we had an idyllic picnic on the sparkling water and sunny fjords. They taught me how to fly fish for the first time. My host even gifted me a woolen hat that he knit himself.

To this day, I’m grateful for their generosity and for the opportunity to experience Norway through the eyes of people who call it home. It gave me a deeper appreciation for the land and its culture, something I never would have experienced if I had stayed at a hotel.

I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to repay them. We’ve fallen out of touch over the last several years, yet I still look back on that time fondly. Oddly enough, the person I maintained a friendship with was not one of the people I met, but rather the guy I never got to meet.

Patrick and I became penpals. The improbability of maintaining regular correspondence with someone from another country whom you've never actually met in person isn't lost on me. After seven years of spontaneously ping-ponging messages back and forth across multiple time zones, moves, jobs, relationships, and other life changes, we finally met face-to-face for the first time in 2023.

How did we finally meet? We happened to be in the right place at the right time:

Between Brazil and Norway, Patrick had a layover in New York, and we had a 2-hour window to say hello. I happened to be nearby when he texted that he was in the same city, and would I be available to get coffee?

I was 6 stops away on the L train, and I dropped everything I was doing to get there before he had to fly back home.

Since then, Patrick has become a true friend. He met my daughter when she was just 2 months old, and more recently he came to stay with us during his East Coast tour of the World Cup. I can’t fully describe how surreal it is to witness the person behind all those years of text messages morph into someone who plays with my toddler and feels like family.

A decade ago I reached out to a stranger for a place to stay in Norway, and that platonic missed connection has now become our guest in Queens.

Now that I’m older, wiser, and in a position to host, I realize that there is a transformational kind of magic only a visitor can bring.

For those of you who are like me — completely sports illiterate — please bear with me.

I’ve never had the heart for sports. I can appreciate the intense camaraderie they generate, but I don’t enjoy getting emotionally invested in a score. I always feel sorry for the team that loses, and I’m allergic to competition. You want the ball? Please, take it.

Which is why it’s absurd that I am now 100000% watching the World Cup.

Patrick flew all the way here because Norway is in the World Cup for the first time in 28 years. Coincidentally, he arrived when the New York Knicks won the NBA championship for the first time in 53 years, which turned the city into a gigantic street party. People climbed scaffolding and lamp posts and practically defied gravity in celebration.

He was unintentionally in the right place at the right time to witness a piece of NY sports history.

A few days later, we were halfway through dinner in Koreatown when Patrick looked at his phone and said, “The Norwegians are gathering in Times Square at 7:30.” We hadn’t planned on going anywhere after dinner, but Times Square was only a 15 minute walk. Toddler in tow, we headed over.

We stumbled upon thousands of Norwegian FIFA fans and compatriots cheering, singing, performing the viral Viking Row, chanting “Ro!” in unison. I don’t know what I was expecting. Certainly not the largest documented gathering of Norwegians ever to engulf Times Square.

It felt electrically synchronistic. It was the solstice, it was unplanned (for us, anyway), and it was also Father’s Day. My partner Thane has Norwegian heritage, which means our daughter does too. And thanks to Patrick we were unexpectedly in the right place at the right time to witness a piece of Norwegian sports history.

Visitors often have a way of bending the ordinary into something extraordinary.

I know many of you read this newsletter because I’m a painter. But I’m also here to notice serendipity, observe the moments that stand out, and find the bright spots. Because life can be really dark. I’m searching for where the light shines, and I’m on a lifelong quest to map it out. Discovering personal constellations, if you will.

At the end of the day we’re all just visiting. We’re all passing through. And if you stay open, you might find yourself in the right place at the right time in unexpected ways.

You just never know.

Love,
Melanie

PS: Norway plays Brazil today at 4pm Eastern. They’ve never made it this far before, and I’ll be watching because I am now emotionally invested. Even if they lose, it kind of feels like they already won.

You are receiving this because you either subscribed or I signed you up because I love you. You can read Constellations in the format of your choice: as a newsletter in your inbox, on the webpage, or on the Substack app.

Thanks so much for being here.

♥