In May, the day stretches out as the sunlight lingers until about midnight in Norway. Gone are the days where the sun only shows itself for four or five hours and instead people can be spotted strolling with an ice cream as late as 11 pm. When I first get to Norway during this time of year, I always find myself staying up much later than planned, largely because of the everlasting twilight, but also because I get carried away catching up with family. My days here are packed with hiking, playing soccer, goofing around with cousins, and lots and lots of coffee, cheese, and chocolate. Immediately below is the view from my tante's (aunt's) porch in Bergen. Every evening we would sit outside in our knit sweaters (mine made by her!), sip coffee, and watch the fog roll in. It is here, in this landscape and among my family, I feel a deep sense of koselig and a certainty that this is home.

Hiking into the snow, Balestrand, Norway

May in Norway also signifies the time for Russ. Russ, meaning red, is a tradition unique to Norway where students who are in their final year of high school spend the last month before they graduate wearing red, blue, green or black jumpsuits or overalls - color indicating their field of study. They go to music festivals, party, and hand out Russ cards to children who feverishly collect them and compare who and how many they have with their friends (these are basically baseball player cards with a funny photo of them as a kid and an often cheeky joke). While it originated with red caps being worn by high school graduates, it has grown into an all-encompassing, month-long experience. It's meant as a time to celebrate completing thirteen years of school, but some of the recently added traditions have come under criticism by older generations and current students themselves. Russ students usually form groups with their friends and pick a name, perhaps design a logo, some commission musicians to write a theme song for the group, and many groups will purchase a car, van or bus to paint and decorate with their group's name and logo. The astronomical amount of money spent on buying and refurbishing buses with sound systems has, in some areas, turned into a sort of arms race to see who can spend the most money, which has driven many students to opt out of purchasing a vehicle or not participate in Russ at all.

Russ are also known for playing pranks (see photo below) and partake in scavenger hunts of their own design with questionable tasks to tick off. While challenges certainly lie ahead with how Russ continues to function, one thing is for sure: I do not envy the students who, after a month of nights spent drinking, sleeping on their school's fields (yes, school is still in session during this time, so they can't be late to class), and driving all over Norway to attend music festivals, have to sit for their exams immediately after their Russ time commences on the 17th of May. Seems like a foolproof plan.

This is evidence that Russ were here. A group of mischevious Russ added dish soap to one of the park's fountains in Olso.

As the only two people who hopped off the ferry in Lygra, we waved off the boat and turned around to face the steep grassy bank that rose just beyond the dock. Fingers crossed the place I had scouted on Google Maps existed, we climbed the hill to reveal a rolling landscape dotted with little white things (soon identified as sheep). The picturesque fields were bathed in a golden light that I've come to associate with Norwegian evenings. As we followed the small dirt path we passed a sign that read, "Lygra sentrum" (Lygra town center). Perhaps this was a joke the locals played on visitors because the sign was firmly planted in the middle of an empty field (or maybe commentary on the fact that sheep, who clearly outnumber humans in Lygra, congretate at this spot regularly)? Soon enough, however, we passed through a gate and walked across the only road running through the town to meet the owner of the guesthouse, Dan. He stood on the porch of one of the handful of houses visible on this stretch of island and greeted us warmly. After setting our things down, we chatted with Dan who we quickly learned also doubles as a local sheep farmer. It was lambing season and Dan explained that he had been sleeping in the sheep shed for nearly two weeks getting up every few hours to check on the ewes, in case any of them had trouble giving birth. As he sat petting his favorite sheep, Dolly, who he had bottle fed as a lamb, he told us he would not be able to forgive himself if a lamb or ewe's life could have been saved if only he had been there. So, as a result, he hangs out 24/7 with the pregnant sheep during lambing season. While I have family in Norway who farm, I was reminded how grueling and labor-intensive livestock farming can be and how it takes a special kind of passion to find joy in the daily grind of this profession. After commenting that Dolly was better than any lawnmower he could've ever purchased, he said goodnight and walked back to the shed, Dolly trotting after him.