17th of May!

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NORWAY: Hip, hip, hooraaay for 17 of May!

Our National Holiday. “Syttende Mai” is Norway’s Constitution Day and we celebrate big! The streets will be packed with people dressed in our national costumes (the bunad) Orchestras in all the streets blasting away. Children’s parades from the schools, all waving flags, and the Russ celebrating graduating from College 🇳🇴


Norwegian2Hurra for Syttende Mai! Norges national dag, hvor vi feirer i bunader og fin stasen, med musikk i gatene, barne tog fra alle skoler, hvor alle veiver med flaggene sine. Russen feirer at de er ferdig med videregående 🇳🇴

 

 

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Norwegian Kransekake

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Kransekake

EnglishKransekake is a cake made of almonds, powdered sugar and egg whites. It is a Norwegian and Danish tradition to serve it at weddings, Christmas, and other important holidays and events 🇳🇴


Norwegian2Kransekake er en kake laget av mandler, melis og eggehvite, og er først og fremst en norsk og dansk tradisjon. Den serveres ofte ved høytider og høytidelige anledninger som jul, barnedåp, konfirmasjoner og brylluper 🇳🇴

Easter in Norway

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Acrylic painting by Eva Newermann

 

EnglishDo you ever wonder what the Norwegians do for Easter?

  • They “all” go up to the mountains skiing, some in just a bathing suit.
  • They eat Easter lamb and yummy Easter marzipan.
  • If they are lucky they can see the Northern Lights (Aurora Borealis).
  • They read spooky crime novels and solve Easter quizzes. 
  • They sit in the sun getting a really dark tan and wear a white high neck sweater when they get back in the city, and brag about their winter cabin.

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Lurer du på hva Nordmenn gjør i Påsken?

  • Alle reiser på fjellet for å stå på ski, noen bare i en badedrakt.
  • De spiser Påske Lam og god Påske marsipan.
  • Hvis de er heldige så får de se Nordlyset.
  • De leser krim bøker og løser Påskenøtter.
  • De soler seg hele påsken og har på seg en hvit høyhalset genser når de reiser tilbake til byen, hvor de skryter av hytta si.

 

Ewa Lowe: Chapter 24

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The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann


 

Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!

Star Gaze Airline called one day asking if I could work on a special flight. A group of Arabian sheiks were flying from Miami to Egypt. They had asked specifically for Lovise and me to serve them. I was very flattered and agreed. I called Lovise and she was also very excited. 

Having sheiks onboard was always fun. They would give you beautiful gifts, like a ruby ring or a diamond bracelet. One time I got a Rolex Oyster, I’m still wearing it every day. Airlines do have rules and regulations saying a flight attendant is not allowed to receive gifts from the passengers, but since SGA is a privately owned airline, they don’t have any such rules.

It’s May 2005, Friday the 13th and we are flying from Miami to Egypt. 

When the passengers board I can see some of the sheiks are bringing their wives and others their mistresses. All the girls are very young, pretty and blond. 

I guess blondes do have more fun.

I recognize the sheik who probably asked for Lovise and me. He is an older guy, at least 50, and the one who gave me the Rolex. He’s always asking for a date and I’m always turning him down, saying, “You don’t want to go there!”

He will then grab my hand, his ugly brown eyes glowing. “Oh, but I do, I do want to go there!”

You don’t know how lucky you are, being rejected.

The sheik spots me and waves me over.

“Ewa! I’m so happy to see you!” He grabs me and three smackers are planted on my cheeks, then he whispers in my ear. “I’ve got something very special for you this time.” 

I smile and show him the Rolex on my wrist. “See, I’ve been wearing this ever since you gave it to me.”

He takes my hand, smiling. “I’m very, very pleased to hear that. I will give you my special gift later.”

The cabin is all clear for takeoff, Lovise and I are in our seats. Lovise is grinning.

“I’m ready to hear the next adventure or horror story from you.”

Too bad I can’t tell you about drowning Eva Newermann in the bathtub, but I do have a story involving liquid. 

“This time I’m in California.” I lean back and continue my story.

“I had rented a car and was driving down the coast. I’m getting hungry and when I spot a place called By the Way (clever name), I stopped to get something to eat. The place must have been popular because it was packed. The only free seat was at the counter, so I jumped on a stool. An older man next to me is eating soup, so I order the same. 

“I get the bowl of soup in front of me, pick up the spoon and I’m just about to open my mouth to taste it, when out of the corner of my eye I can see the old man’s head crash into his soup. 

“I’m sitting there frozen with the spoon an inch away from my mouth. My nostrils are picking up the smell from the soup. The waitress comes running over, pulling his head out of the bowl. I can see he has white foam around his mouth and he falls off the chair and hits the floor.

“Someone hollered, ’Is there a doctor in the house?’

“I looked down at my soup and very slowly put the spoon back, into the bowl. I had lost my appetite. 

“’He is dead, Jim.’ I heard a man say to another guy. I got down from my high stool and walked out the door. Outside, the sirens swelled louder and louder. End of story,” I tell Lovise.

Lovise is jumping up and down in her chair.

“Didn’t you stick around to find out if it was the soup that killed him?”

“No, I didn’t, but I tell you, it took me a long time before I could eat soup again!”

Now we have reached cruising altitude and we get on our feet to serve the sheiks.

“Let’s see what’s cooking,” I say. “Maybe we can serve them some soup! 

We head off giggling to the galley.

For the following hours we are busy serving people drinks and food. The Blondies want champagne and a lot of it.

My sheik has been dangling a little red box in front of me every time I passed him. 

Finally 20 minutes before landing in Cairo I have a break and the sheik pulls me down onto the empty seat next to him.

“Open it!” He thrusts the little red box into my hands. I pull the gold ribbon off and open it. It’s a music box, playing “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend.” Inside is another smaller box and when I open it, I gasp. It’s a huge diamond ring.

“Ewa,” my sheik is laughing, “I know how you adore Marilyn Monroe. Her movie ’Gentlemen Prefer Blondes’ is one of your favorites. Well, this is the ring she was wearing while singing ’Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend.’ It’s a five-carat emerald-cut diamond ring.” He then takes my left hand and slips it on my finger. “It will go well with your Rolex.”

“I’m speechless,” I say, “and it takes a lot to make me speechless!”

23-F

The sheik puts his hand under my chin and looks into my eyes.

Funny what a five-carat diamond can do to a girl. His brown eyes seem nearly attractive, and 50, is it really that old?

Suddenly a strong electrical shock goes through my body. Similar to the feeling I get after a kill but much stronger. I feel like I’m burning up. The sheik puts his face close to mine.

“Now, can I have that date?” He is going to say something more but the plane starts to go into a steep nose dive. Suddenly all hell breaks loose. Glasses, champagne bottles, laptops, you name it; everything is flying, getting smashed to smithereens.

The people who weren’t strapped in, including me, are getting tossed around like rag dolls. I’m trying desperately to get up front, but I finally have to give up. I manage to get into a seat and put on the seatbelt. I can feel blood dripping from my forehead. The Blondies are screaming and some are crying.

The purser has made it to the intercom but nobody can hear what he is saying. I try to tell people around me to prepare for a crash landing.

I show them the vests and we all put them on. The pilot has managed to level the plane out a little and I make it to my jump seat. Next to the seat inside a small compartment I have my personal waterproof emergency pouch. It contains a small flashlight, matches, lighter, Swiss knife, fishing hook with a line and a birth control box containing Rohypnol.

You never know.

I put the pouch around my neck and tuck it inside my blouse. I can’t see Lovise anyplace. 

Now the plane starts shaking and goes into another steep dive. I try to signal the passengers to take their shoes and glasses off, bend forward, lock hands behind their neck and get ready for a crash landing.

Oh crap! We are all going to die!

For a moment I look out at the sky.

If I really have some alien DNA in me, this would be a perfect time to put it to use. I need a miracle to happen!

23-L

The cockpit door slams open and I can hear the faint voice of the copilot.

“Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!”

Inside my head I see my brother James holding up his daughter Lilliana, who is trying to say my name –but it comes out “wawa.”

A whiff of cinnamon tickles my nostrils and I remember Adam Skai telling me Friday the 13th will be my lucky day. Oh, boy! Was he ever wrong!

I put my head between my knees and close my eyes. My head feels like it’s going to explode and in flashes I see: 

Sunny, crushing my head with a stone. 

Genie, throwing me into the fire.

Pharaoh, cutting me open with a razor-blade.

Erik, pushing me off a cliff.

Eva, drowning me.

Adam is swimming towards me. His white arms are trying to catch me. He is saying something I don’t understand. Could it be Friday the 13th?

The cinnamon smell gets stronger.

Then there is a terrible explosion and a bright white light.

19-L copy

In Hollywood, Florida, Irene is in the living room playing with Lilliana when James comes rushing in.

“I just heard on the radio, a Star Gaze Airliner has crashed into the ocean, close to Alexandria in Egypt!”

Irene picks up Lilliana and looks at James, worried.

“Ewa can’t have been on that flight. They would have contacted us if she was.” 

Lilliana is frightened by her parents’ alarm and starts crying when the phone and the doorbell ring at the same time.

Irene and James look at each other in horror.!

 


 

The chapter “Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!” is from the sci-fi, triller book “Fear is in the Air” by Eva Newermann. Available on Amazon Kindle and Apple Books

Ewa Lowe: Chapter 23

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The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann


 

A White Dwarf – A Dying Star

“Let me fix the drinks,” I say, “you just sit down and relax.”

My gloves are on the table and I put them on.

Then I walk to the front door and flip the Open sign to Closed. Locking the door I tell Eva, “No point being disturbed.”

Erik’s picture is glued to her chest. 

I go into the small kitchen. She has a collection of different liquor bottles on the counter.

After mixing each of us my easy-on-the-Coke Bacardi specials, I go back to her.

Handing her the drink, with my glove on, I say, “I can’t believe my fingers are still cold.” 

She grabs the glass and gulps half of it down. I do the same thing with mine. “No mother should have to bury her child,” Eva says, monotonously.

It seems her mind is somewhere else. Maybe far, far out in the Cosmos.

Eva looks at me with tears in her eyes. “We had been married for seven years and then, last year, on the 17th of May, he disappeared. 

“We didn’t know what happened. He was such a loving husband and we were trying to have children.”

If you had only known how your loving husband was screwing around.

“One month after he disappeared, I find out I’m pregnant. After two months, I had a miscarriage, probably from all the stress. 

“Well, four months pass and then they find him dead, at the bottom of the Pulpit Rock.” 

Now her drink is empty and I go and get her another, even stronger. Her eyes are getting heavy and her speech is slurred.

“The police are not sure what happened, there are too many questions. They think it might be suicide, which is ridiculous. He was very happy when I saw him the last time. 

“May 17 is a big day here and we had lunch with our family. He told me he had to go meet some people from the Viking soccer team. He was being considered as their next coach. 

“When he was not back the next day and I had called all the people I could think of and none of them knew where he was, I called the police. The police have ended the investigation now, it was just put down as a suicide.”

Eva stands up and throws her arms up in the air. 

“I just feel something is wrong. I don’t believe it was suicide. He didn’t drive his car and no cab drove him to the Pulpit. 

“I’m going to my cabin in the mountain for a week. 

“When I get back, I will use the extra cash I get from selling you the painting to hire a private investigator. 

“There must be somebody who has seen something.”

This is no good! I have to put a stop to this! She is going to use my money to find me and get me convicted for murder? I don’t think so!

She gets up and stumbles towards the stairs. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

I jump up. “I’ll help you up the stairs.”

After some commotion we reach the bathroom and she falls down, and crawls the rest of the way to the toilet.

This girl is going to pass out any minute now. 

I walk over to the bathtub and start running the water. I pour in a good amount of her bubble bath bottle.

 “Look,” I tell Eva, “why don’t you get into the tub? It will do you good.”

 She is still sitting on the toilet half asleep.

I unbutton her blouse and her bra; her slacks and panties are still around her ankles. 

When I have undressed her I put my arms around her and help her into the tub.

She slides down into the water. I clap her on the head.

“I’ll go down and get you a drink.”

“Thank you,” she sighs deeply and closes her eyes.

I mix her a drink in a new glass and bring it upstairs. When I get back she is nearly gone, literally and visually. All I can see is her long blond hair, floating on top of the suds. 

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I put my hands on her head and push it under the water. No resistance. I go down on my knees, glance at my watch and hold her head under the water for five minutes. All I see is the foam covering the whole bathtub.

You are like a white dwarf, which is a dying star. You are at peace now. I’m doing you a favor. Another tragic suicide in the family.

I close my eyes and enjoy the electric jolts that run through my body.

I put my dripping wet gloves into a plastic bag. At the sink I take one glove out and use it when I open the faucet, being careful not to leave any fingerprints. Then I wash both of the gloves under the running water, getting rid of the suds. I wring the water out of them and put them back on.

Now I have to rewind and try to remember everything I touched when I wasn’t wearing gloves. I did have them on until I sat down at the table. I’d better go downstairs and start wiping off prints.

Our Irish coffee mugs are still on the table, together with the Cuba Libre glasses and Erik’s picture. In the kitchen I open the dishwasher. It’s full, I start counting glasses and mugs. There are four glasses and three mugs, matching the one we have used.

Opening the cabinets I see three more glasses and two more mugs.

So, she has a total of nine glasses and seven mugs. That includes the ones we have been drinking from. Odd numbers, so nobody is going to notice that one glass and one mug are missing, I will take mine with me and throw them away later.

I grab Erik’s picture and go upstairs to the bathroom. Standing in the doorway, I try to visualize what it would look like if she had committed suicide.

The toilet has not been flushed, so I leave it like that. Her clothes are on the floor. I take Erik’s picture and drop it into the bathtub, face down. 

I hope this is the last time I will see your ugly brown eyes.

Putting her glass on the bathtub shelf, I give it a push, so it hits the floor. It doesn’t shatter, only gets a few cracks. I stand there and watch as her Bacardi Coke runs down the drain.

I go back to the doorway for another look.

Hope I have remembered everything. Would she have left the door open? No, I think she would have closed it.

Closing the door, on my way down, I pass a door with STUDIO painted on it. I can’t resist, I go inside. The room is filled from top to bottom with paintings.

It really would be nice to have a souvenir. I think I deserve one. I can’t take the Stonehenge painting in the window. That’s too risky.

Finally I find a small painting of Stonehenge. Not more than 30 by 30 centimeters. It has no frame or signature.

Perfect! If anybody asks, I’ll just say I bought it from somebody on the street. 

I wipe it down with a cloth I find on the table.

In the kitchen I put the painting in a plastic bag and put my glass and mug in another. The chair I’ve been sitting on I push back under the table. That way only one chair is pulled out. 

Eva’s Irish coffee mug and her other glass is still on the table.

In the hallway my socks meet the glass and mug. I will throw them away on my way back.

I peek out the door. All quiet on the Western Front, except for the rain drumming down. I hurry back to the hotel, getting rid of the evidence along the way. 

We are flying out this evening.

So much for my relaxing time in Stavanger!

 


 

The chapter “A White Dwarf – A Dying Star” is from the sci-fi, triller book “Fear is in the Air” by Eva Newermann. Available on Amazon Kindle and Apple Books