Yesterday, we lost an hour. Which reminded me that I've lost far more time than that in the last year and a half. Life has been good, if fast and absolutely full. Since my last post, I've traded a dream job (teaching American and British literature at the University of Oslo) for another kind of rewarding challenge: writing full time for a fast-growing industrial technology company in Oslo. I've finished out a successful two-year term as Chair of Democrats Abroad Norway, stepping down to spend my time and energy on the aforementioned job challenge and with my sweet family. Which reminds me: the Hazelnut is nearly four years old. Motherhood has morphed completely in the last couple of years, too. At some point, I will write more about all these things.

Meanwhile, I decided to stop messing around and kickstart this wonderful old blog again. With poetry. It's April, which means Poem-A-Day. Something I've never been able to crack. But these days I write lots and lots and lots of long-form texts, often more creative than you'd guess given the industries we serve, but still, long and informative. I miss poetry. So, PAD it is.

After the kid was in bed, and after J picked up his laptop (oh yes, he started a new job within the last 18 months, too), I decided to go for a walk to chase the light in the sky. It hasn't been a terrible winter by any standards, but the sadness of January and February got to me the same way they always do. I desperately need this sunshine and will brave the near-freezing evening temps to stick with it. Here's my PAD 01:

late light

an excess of darkness
poured from the sky
and muddled the river
murking it black
so that it tumbled between
its bare banks
silent and devoid of the light
i expect to be reflected there.

the sky is milky white
and wretchedly cold, bare
as the branches that reach
and scratch against it
shivering and aware, caught
wishing to be clothed.

i am not the only sinner
out tonight, soles crunching loudly
over the last of the gravel.
we know our trespasses
this late light sky and i.

water rolls and spills and falls
smooth and cold, soundless
as black silk pulled back
over a waiting hip and thigh.

blood rises
and my eyes follow
the chilled wind up to find
the slivered green beginnings
of Spring so small and tight
you might miss them
in this late light, poised
and still, awaiting the inevitable.

I sincerely hope I'll be back tomorrow. Lots of luck to my fellow PAD participants! I know I need it most of all.

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;

--If, Rudyard Kipling

I am a candidate for Chair and Vice Chair of Democrats Abroad Norway . If you're an American expat in Norway, I ask for your consideration and vote. You can read my candidate statement here . If you register with Democrats Abroad by 15 February 2017, you'll receive a ballot via email. Thank you!

Last month, millions of women and our allies--people who love, respect and value us--rallied and marched in cities and towns around the world. Ask any one woman why she participated in the Women's March and you'll get a unique answer. We didn't agree on everything, but we do agree on this feminist principle: Women's rights are human rights.

Of course I showed up on a Saturday afternoon to remind the world that this is important. Of course I brought my husband and daughter. Of course I marched.

And, of course, there has been blow-back.

I understand a lot of it. People are indignant because they see this movement--the largest single populist demonstration in U.S. history--as a threat to the new President's agenda, which they support. People are offended by women dressed as vaginas or wearing "pussy hats." People are upset that pro-lifers were ostracized in some cities. And people are skeptical about what such a nebulous event accomplished or can accomplish in the long run.

I understand.

This is part of my political philosophy that I want to wear right out in front:

I can say, "I understand" without saying, "I agree." And I can say, "I disagree," without saying, "I don't understand."

We're too quick in our speed-dating, Snapchat, 140-character culture to divide along these lines. These things shouldn't be mutually exclusive. Understanding comes with intelligence and experience. It does not require agreement. And it does keep the conversation going. Open mindedness is not gullibility, but we often act like it is. Easier to shun the thing we don't understand than to sit down and ask questions about it. Discernment takes too long.

A friend of mine is a national park ranger. Garrett and I, in his words, "disagree fairly extensively." But his post on Inauguration Weekend and the Women's March is important to me. Not because we agree. We don't. But because his perspective is unique, and his sincere love of history and respect for our government are admirable. He makes good points in this piece about the procedures around peaceful protests and the way security works, how demonstrators step on their cause when they fail to clean up after themselves, etc. And he reminds us of history's long view on both the march and the presidential campaign that gave rise to it. Best of all, Garrett presents his perspective in a way that doesn't entrench him on a specific side, and he doesn't close off debate by rejecting opposition. On the contrary.

He is trying to be understood. He is trying to understand.

I believe the Women's March was a beautiful, proud moment of solidarity. At the same time , I cede all Garrett's points about respect for officers of the law and posted road closures and cleaning up. At the same time , I disagree with him about what the march accomplished. At the same time , I understand that the vague "mission" of the march could make people roll their eyes or throw up their hands. I stand strongly enough in my beliefs to listen to people who don't agree with me and to push forward with an open mind, ready to engage in a real dialogue.

I marched on that January Saturday knowing that President Trump was never going to be swayed by millions of women marching.

Unlike many of the marchers, I accept him as my president. I'm not happy about it, but I accept some responsibility for his being there. Only 26% of American citizens voted for the man, but he won. And all I did was donate money to the DNC, post scathing comments on social media, preach to the liberal choir, and try to avoid shouting matches with my conservative relatives. I could have done more, and next time I will. Meanwhile, I will respect the office of the president and our long-standing tradition of the peaceful transition of power.

I will do this, because it's what I asked those on the other side to do while Barack Obama was our president. Even if many of them did not behave thus, my principles stand, and I must abide by them.

I will resist the president's efforts to dial back the hands of progress any way I peacefully and meaningfully can. Not only on behalf of women, but on behalf of all vulnerable parties. That's feminism.

Lots of people have a difficult time with the moniker of feminism.

It's been co-opted too many times, both by angry groups of "man-bashing" women and by angry groups of threatened men in power. Feminism in the U.S. has become synonymous with its most negative context, and the majority of people seem to forget that the word and the mindset behind it are positive: the belief in and pursuit of human equality. The real success of the Women's March was that so many women of differing backgrounds and differing motivations and differing political priorities showed up at the same time and enjoyed one another's company.

I like the way Alicia Garza, cofounder of #BlackLivesMatter, puts it :

"I decided to challenge myself to be a part of something that isn't perfect, that doesn't articulate my values the way that I do and still show up, clear in my commitment, open and vulnerable to people who are new in their activism. I can be critical of white women and, at the same time, seek out and join with women, white and of color, who are awakening to the fact that all lives do not, in fact, matter, without compromising my dignity, my safety and radical politics."

We found common ground. This is victory. Even before real, more focused work begins on the kaleidoscopic fronts empowered marchers might move toward after the fact.

This definition of success is unsatisfying to some. Much like the Occupy Wall Street movement (of which I was critical), the platform and agenda of the Women's March seems too broad and vague. How do we calculate its success? How can we tell if it worked?

Measurable success for feminism as a world view is different. It begins with nearly 1% of the U.S. population finding terms--broad, vague terms about women's rights and solidarity--under which they can come together. And it continues in every smaller group that springs out of it, every individual engagement with our political process that goes beyond the easy vote. But these successes will be much harder to quantify. You will not get a clear agenda from the Women's March, because there could not be one while still allowing us all to move as one. However, I do believe you will now see clear actions. Possibly millions of them. From every corner.

I felt dismay and fear and disenchantment after Trump's election. My hope for positive change was reinvigorated by the march, and I can't be the only one. How do you measure the rising hope of more than 3 million American citizens? In my world, you can measure it by the proverbial fire in my belly. Next time, I will not be caught watching.

Now, I can argue with those who object to the timing of the march. I can argue with those who object to pussy hats and the "crude" signage held aloft in the crowd. I can argue with those who object to "filthy" celebrity tirades. And I can argue with those who think this was a "pro-abortion" march. But I can't do it here, because each of those objections requires a complex response. Perhaps we'll have a chance to talk about these other things sometime.

I am proud to have had friends marching in Seattle, San Francisco, Oakland, Los Angeles, Phoenix, Denver, Austin, D.C., Boston, New York, Calgary, London, Paris, and Sydney, to say nothing of my wonderful network here in Oslo. We showed up for our own reasons, but also just to stand side by side. Different but together. The way society works when it works.

Here is a selection from the official mission statement on the Women's March website:

"In the spirit of democracy and honoring the champions of human rights, dignity, and justice who have come before us, we join in diversity to show our presence in numbers too great to ignore. The Women's March on Washington will send a bold message to our new government on their first day in office, and to the world that women's rights are human rights. We stand together, recognizing that defending the most marginalized among us is defending all of us."

I marched with my fellow women and our allies to demonstrate for kindness and decency, to advocate for "the least of these." Of course I marched.

And now I'm going to act. This month, I'm running in an election of my own. I am a candidate for Chair/Vice Chair for Democrats Abroad Norway, my small bid to help affect the culture of my party. I have also joined multiple smaller action groups to oppose the worst of the President's policies and appointments. Next time, I won't be caught watching. Please wish me luck, friends. I'm excited about the next chapter.

Stuff changes so fast in Oslo. Many might think Norway remains old or stodgy or slow. Wrong. These days there's a revolution-a-minute when it comes to new enterprise. The level of education is high here. Norwegians are also overwhelmingly technologically literate and quick to embrace new tech as it comes. A couple of years ago, I wrote a short post on online grocery shopping in Oslo, highlighting a company we used exclusively at the time called Dagligvarerexpressen (Dex). It was one of only a couple options available at the time. Since then, several other delivery companies have popped up, so I thought it was time for an update here!

First of all, grocery delivery in Oslo has boomed, and there's a new, very successful kid in town. Kolonial .no showed up seemingly overnight and has taken the industry by storm. Already, it's absorbing up its competitors. I think this is partly because, unlike Dex and the rest, Kolonial.no's website is incredibly user-friendly, though not available in English.

We've used Kolonial.no, and they provide very good service. In partnership with Rema 1000, their selection continues to grow, which is nice, as we are attached to certain brands. Delivery fees in town begin at only 39 nok. (You can also pick up your order at one of thirty pick-points in the city for free.) When the delivery person arrived with my last order, she said she'd decided not to bring the greenbeans I ordered because they looked pretty bad. "Our produce is usually better," she said. Rather than tossing it in anyway and letting the customer sort it out, she was proactive about bringing only the best. The refund was automatic.

Coincidentally, I had the opportunity to interview Kolonial.no's cofounder, Karl Munthes-Haas, in September for Startup Guide Oslo . His story is fascinating, and you can read my full interview with him (along with several other exciting entrepreneurs) in the book . Here's one thing that stuck with me. When I asked what motivates him to come to work each day, building Kolonial.no into the number one grocery delivery company in Oslo, he said:

"I like that the value of the company is not just in the profit the company brings in, but also the benefit it provides to its consumers, above what they pay for. That's what motivates me. Let's say we do ten thousand deliveries in a week; that's at least ten thousand hours saved for the people who buy from us. Once the ball starts rolling, you get swallowed up in the responsibilities--employees to think about, orders that need to be filled, growth that needs to be done--but I think the underlying motivation is still creating value, which is good."

Karl's work ethic and vision for the company are inspiring and definitely in keeping with Scandinavian ideals about business and equality. It makes me feel good to support them.

We're also fans of Kolonihagen . Don't be confused! It's a totally different company. Kolonihagen offers baskets of fresh ingredients for specified meals, as well as a la carte organic produce and groceries. We subscribe to the Vegetar Matkasse (vegetarian food basket) for two adults. This includes recipes for three meals and exactly the ingredients we need to cook them. There are also options for larger baskets, as well as meat and fish meals. When the Hazelnut (who is closing in on turning two years old!) isn't being picky, the receipe yield is usuall enough for all three of us.

It's been about six months since we started our membership. Overall, we're pleased. I'd say we manage to make all the meals in the basket about 90% of the time. We've only run into two or three meals that we didn't want to eat. The rest are solid, creative, yummy. There have even been meals we've LOVED (particularly the spectacular soups!). Only rarely do the recipes repeat, so there's no fatigue on that score. A couple of times items have arrived on the cusp of going bad or molding. The company has refunded us for a loaf of bread, for example, without pushback. Kolonihagen also has a sleek, simple website that makes it easy for members to log in and place an order or pause the delivery for a week or two.

Kolonihagen also runs a chain of restaurants around town. A few years ago, I had a less-than-optimal experience at the one in Frogner. Nothing to go into detail about here. But when I mentioned it in passing on social media, the manager got in touch with me and offered a comped meal to make up for it. I appreciate that kind of customer service. It meant I didn't cringe at the name when the basket delivery started, happily.

And if you've been in Oslo for more than an hour, you've definitely seen the bright pink Foodora cyclists zipping all over town. I can hardly remember what life was like here before them. (Wait. Yes I can. Less lazy for me.)

Now, if you want fried chicken or tandoori lamb or tacos with mango salso or falafel brought to your door, all you have to do is order via the website or the smartphone app. Seriously easy. Seriously worth it. When you log in, they list what's available by distance and/or estimated time of delivery. (Do I want pizza now? Or a spicy cheeseburger forty-five minutes from now?) If takeout wasn't so blasted expensive in Oslo anyway, I'd do this all the time. But for a special occasion, I'm just so glad to have the option.

So there you go. Growth. I've been in Oslo almost six years, and this part of the landscape is almost entirely different from what it was back in little old 2011. Hopefully I'll find time and energy to blog about the excellent improvement in the food culture generally. Until then, I'll just mention the 4GRINGOS taco trucks that hang out at Youngstorget and Aker Brygge. Scrumptious and spicy! Happy eating!

"I want to work on climate change," says Paridhi Rustogi.

It's December 8, the first official day of Telenor Youth Forum 2016. At a hightop table in the Scandic hotel lobby, TYF delegates from India, Norway and Bangladesh lean in to talk about what's to come. Later in the day, they'll be broken into teams and assigned one of seventeen possible global goals. They've had no control over either of those steps. So, which global goal do they each want to work on? Most hedge. They're open minded. A challenge is a challenge, and the experience will be good no matter what. But Paridhi--an environmental engineer and a delegate from India--shakes her head.

"Climate change is what matters most to me." She is definitive.

Two other delegates gently challenge her choice--or, indeed, any choice at all-- especially in an opportune environment like TYF. Better to get something you're not as familiar with; you'll learn more that way.

"Hey, I thought this was a safe space," says Paridhi with a laugh.

Her fellow delegate from India, Sharad Vivek Sagar, answers, "A safe space isn't a comfort zone."

He's right. But I still give a little inner cheer later that day when the Climate Change team calls Paridhi's name. Hurrah for young people with resolve.

***

I blogged the whole four day event-- the fun and games , Oslo by firelight and by rain , the Nobel Peace Prize reception and exhibit preview , the meetings with dignitaries , the hard hard work , and the final pitch competition --for the Telenor Youth Forum Blog. But a few things didn't fit there. A few moments I want to bottle up. Keep. Share.

***

On the bus to Telenor HQ, I slip into a seat next to Sara Babiker. Because of her hijab and my own subconscious assumptions about religion and ethnicity, I incorrectly guess that she's here from Malaysia.

"Sweden," she corrects me.

Sara's Sudanese parents raised their daughter in Stockholm. Both of them are doctors, and Sara swore she'd never follow them into medicine. Her interests are diverse and fascinating. Sports journalism, because she enjoys football; writing, though academia has managed to numb the joy of it in recent years. So what's she studying now?

"Medicine," she says, and dips her chin toward the irony with a soft smile. "I was interested in Biology, but I like working with people."

***

Ani Koleva of Bulgaria studied journalism before switching to economics. The latter felt like a better foundation for a later career choice. On a bus ride, she teaches me that Cyrillic--often called the Russian alphabet--was actually born in Bulgaria. She tells me about her country's beautiful beaches running along the Black Sea.

Over a meal of reindeer and rice at Laavo on the first night, Ani talks about the time she visited Jordan as part of a student exchange program. That program turned out to be something of a scam. She and her fellow female Bulgarian students experienced religious conservatism firsthand, kept separate from their male counterparts, forbidden even to laugh. She is proud that, when the time came, she and her friends stood up for their liberal values of personal freedom and gender equality. Ani's group was able to leave the country safely, but she carries those memories with her.

***

Bojana Minic is from Montenegro, buts she studied law in Vienna. Everyone in her family is a lawyer, but she doesn't want to join them. They think she's a little crazy, but she doesn't mind making choices that buck the trend. Bojana is a prospective member of the International Institute of Space Law in Paris. She worked for Hard Rock International and runs a blog called Lifestyle Montenegro.

"In Montenegro, we eat a lot and sleep a lot, but we work hard when we need to work hard," she says.

***

Jovana Daljevic of Serbia is passionate about helping children with disabilities. She's a writer, and has written in English for the Novak Djokovic Foundation blog. Bright-eyed and bright-minded, Jovana is organising a humanitarian drive "Our kilometre for their better life"(Naš kilometar za njihov bolji život) in Serbia.

Her team worked late into the night on Saturday. But Sunday, when they awoke and returned to the table, the group realized there was a better way to present their product. Taking the advice of the alumni group (use the best idea, not necessarily the one in which you've invested the most time), they scrapped what they had and started over. A brave move that seems to pay off.

***

Wearing cut-off denim shorts and dark tights, Tamara Kojic (also of Serbia) fights a yawn on the last day of teamwork. Stepping back from the table, she falls forward into a yoga pose, nose to knee. Her voice rings out in any space, almost always backed by laughter.

When she was assigned to the Mental Health team, Tamara wasn't terribly excited at first. She felt her own experience and resources could have been better used in the group on young refugees, for example. But then she remembered how this opportunity came to her.

"We were selected from so many others," she says, gesturing to the rest of the delegates, mingling in the lounge at the Telenor Arena. "People believed I was the best choice to do this. So I did my best." Indeed, they all did.

***

It's difficult to do Sharad Sagar justice in writing. He dazzles. Even standing still, his energy seems to pulse forward. But he rarely stands still. Over the span of four days, we talk everything from Trump to India's recent demonetization shock to matriculation rituals at Tufts University. Data peppers his dialogue. He is the kind of person who can talk for hours. (When his team's 5-minute pitch ends on Sunday, Sharad uses the opportunity of a panel question to expound further on their product, a move that garners both applause and slightly backhanded compliments later in the day. "That was so rude. I loved it.") But he is also an articulate listener and respects the necessity of team support.

I tease him about his political crush, President Obama, a Nobel laureate and, as Sharad describes, a "Politician 2.0." Sharad recently had the opportunity to meet President Obama, an experience that left a predictably profound impression. When I ask whether Sharad thinks about going into politics, the question feels clunky in my mouth. Of course he does. What intelligent, eloquent young person with a passion for social entrepreneurship and entré into the upper echelons of global power doesn't think about that possibility?

"There is danger in having that ambition too young," says 24-year-old Sharad. "If a person aims too high too quickly, their attempt could easily get labeled as a joke. They could burn out and ruin their chances of winning and making a difference later on."

I can see how this hypothetical haunts him. For now, Sharad is the Founder and CEO of Dexterity Global; one of the Forbes 30 Under 30 class of 2016; a Rockefeller 100 Next Century Innovator; and a Telenor Youth Forum 2016 delegate working to turn the Lost Generation of young refugees into World Citizens.

And he's always up for a good game of keep-the-balloon-from-hitting-the-floor .

***

Parting from the group after Sunday's concert reminded me of the end of summer camp. It was that familiar pain. The one I had as a camper, and then later as a counselor. I've always been one to love people quickly, a quality equal parts happy and hazard. It means easy conversations and lots of learning, but it also means my heart hurts a bit when people I have known briefly and deeply return home. It is unlikely that I will see these folks again. But I'll be pulling for them. And I hope you will be, too.

Photo by Ihne Pedersen
(the brilliant photographer
who was at my side the whole way)

This is what I'm doing for the next four days:

Following 26 inspiring young people from around the globe as they work to use technology to better the world.

I'll be live blogging the Telenor Youth Forum. Please read. And share. And support these fascinating human beings as they tackle global goals like ending hunger and poverty, accomplishing gender equality, providing clean water. On and on and on.

Read the Telenor Youth Forum Blog . (Just made the first post!) Follow me on Instagram to see Oslo through the most excited and optimistic eyes.

Happy Nobel Peace Prize Weekend, everyone! Peace be with us all.

The casserole dish in my hand felt suddenly heavy. In front of me were three long tables full of food: fried rice, potato cakes, shrimp rolls, toasted baguettes, quiches and hummus with vegetables. All homemade. All basically healthy and hearty. And here I was with a casserole dish of chocolate chip cookies.

It was FN Dag (UN Day for us English speakers), and the Hazelnut's barnehage had a celebration, complete with singing and food. The kids in her avdeling (class) wore pink face paint splashed across their cheeks and had their names on pink sashes across their cold weather parkdresses . We were supposed to bring food that represented our home country.

I dug into my "America stash" and finished off my last bag of Nestlé chocolate chips for the occasion. Because that's how much I love my daughter.

But once I was actually at the school, elbow to elbow with other parents arriving to drop off their food contributions, I felt a wave of self-consciousness break over me.

Did I really show up with the only dessert? Is that weird for an event like this? Were we asked not to bring desserts? Did I miss that in the translation of the notice from the barnehage? Were people opposed to giving sugar to the kids? Was this a Norwegian thing I just didn't understand yet? Would people see the little American flag next to my cookie casserole and roll their eyes? I might has well have brought a big sack of McDonald's burgers...

I tucked my cookies between a sausage dish and a heaping pile of pasta salad and hurried back to the circle of kids. A perky young woman with a long brown ponytail led all the classes in song. When they started singing the Hoky Poky in Norwegian, I teared up for a second. My little Hazelnut was holding hands with the kids on either side of her, looking stubby and adorable in her too-big-but-she'll-grow-into-it-soon purple parkdress. The teachers sang, "Oogie-boogie-boogie" rather than "Do the hoky poky," and I fought the urge to grab my babe and sing it to her the "right" way. Because this is the "right" way here. This is her childhood, not mine. We're learning what that means together. Sometimes I worry that my non-Norwegianness will let her down.

A couple of years ago, I came across these wise words from Derek Miller, an American father in Norway and author of Norwegian by Night :

"I have lived abroad since 1996. That's 17 years. This was never the intention. I fled nothing. I am not an 'expatriate'. Others may be, but I reject the term. I left America on a whim of adventure and curiosity, which I took to be a very American thing to do. I was going someplace then, not leaving something behind. I was too young to realise they were inseparable.

But now I am old enough to realise that I have done both. And in doing so, I will need this rapprochement to evolve into a more mature relationship precisely because my children will need their father to be less of a foreigner and more of a guide.

Luckily for me, my children will never experience quite what I'm experiencing. They will know and understand Norway as natives do. They may even be a step ahead because they will be able to cast what Nietzsche called a "suspecting glance" at their own cultural presumptions, and in doing so, harness a greater understanding of their own world and themselves.

I can't guide them on being Norwegian (though my wife Camilla can). What I can do is orient them to see and make sense of the cultural dynamics that will play out both within and around them. With such a vocabulary they will have a way to talk about this. With a framework for making sense of their dual identities they will be better able to reason with and through them. And both of these resources will help them in the long run to build the strategies they need to live more complete - rather than divided - lives."

Read the whole piece in the Financial Times

Later, when the larger group separated into avdelings again, and we all sat with paper plates full of food at picnic tables built for toddlers, I got a chance to talk with some of the other parents. (In English.)

"Audrey, did you bring the cookies?" someone asked. "They're amazing!"

"What recipe is this? Why are they so good?" someone else asked, her mouth full of cookie.

I answered, "It's slightly modified from the one on the bag."

"Bag?"

No one knew what I meant. The yellow bag. Nestlé Tollhouse. The way it's pronounced by Phoebe Buffay. But with an extra half cup of flour. Instead of explaining all that, I summed it up:

"American chocolate chips. That's the only way the cookies taste 'right' to me, so I bring bags of them back with me each time I visit. And the cookies taste amazing because they're just terrible for you."

The group laughed, and another mom reached out to her son and asked him, " Vil du ha kake ?" He gobbled the golden-brown bits from her hand and ran off to play. No fears about sugar around here.

As Jonathan, the Hazelnut and I prepared to go home at the end of the day, I retrieved my casserole dish from the table and found it had essentially been licked clean.

For the last two months, I have been swimming in the Oslo startup scene. It's an exciting place to be. Norway is poised to make the most of its status as one of the fastest growing hubs for innovation in Europe. There's wealth, education, competency and infrastructure aplenty here. Since 2011, a vibrant network of coworking spaces, incubators, accelerators and angel investors has developed in this fertile environment. And here's the book on all of it: Startup Guide Oslo .

I was honored when Startup Everywhere approached me about writing the sixth in their growing library of entrepreneurial handbooks. Startup Guide Oslo offers a comprehensive overview of the city for its current and would-be entrepreneurs. Everyone in the guide was selected via a nomination and voting process. In August and September, I raced all over the city interviewing the major players.

I had the chance to visit ten very different coworking spaces in town: 657 Oslo, Avd. Frysja, Bitraf, Fellesverkstedet, Gründergarasjen, The Factory, MESH, Oslo International Hub, Sentralen and SoCentral. You'll find insights (including practical stats like square meters, number of desks/offices, pricing) and beautiful interior photos in the book.

My favorite part of the guide is the chapter of in-depth interviews with successful (and sometimes serial) entrepreneurs, including:

Johan Brand of Kahoot!

Kahoot! is a free game-based learning platform. It works for any subject, in any language, on any device. In a group setting, players read questions on a shared screen - encouraging them to look up - then answer on their own devices. It reaches 33 million monthly active users in 180 countries. Johan's passion for using fun for good is infectious and it comes through in our chat.

Karl Munthe-Kaas of Kolonial.no

Kolonial.no is Norway's largest online grocer. They offer a wide range of groceries and dinners delivered either to customers' homes or pick-up points. Their goal is to make grocery shopping efficient and easy, benefiting the lives of their consumers. Kolonial.no is one of the fastest growing Nordic startups. I'm a happy customer, and I enjoyed learning about Karl's pragmatic approach to starting up.

Jon von Tetzchner of Vivaldi (formerly CEO of Opera Software)

Vivaldi is a free, open source browser. Designed with the needs of advanced web users in mind, it is almost completely customizable. Jon von Tetzchner wanted to pick up where the Opera browser left off, and has built a "company for the future" to achieve that goal. A friend of mine works at Vivaldi, and her experience echoes the idealism of Jon's philosophy. Speaking to Jon was a tech-nerd's dream. (I'm only a quasi-tech-nerd, myself, but I was still psyched about it.)

Jeanette Dyhre Kvisvik of VILLOID

VILLOID is a social style app co-founded by fashion icon Alexa Chung. In the vein of Instagram or Pinterest, VILLOID lets users share their style by creating and following mood boards. It then empowers users to buy what they see and love directly via a buy button. Jeanette's path to this success--and humility and poise in the face of it--made me eager to try VILLOID. Especially when she hinted at what's to come.

Anita Schjøll Brede of Iris AI

Iris AI is an artificial intelligence platform designed to read and analyze the abstracts of millions of research papers. The goal is to find crucial connections between existing research that will help to solve the biggest issues of our time, from cancer to global climate change. More than anyone else, meeting Anita reminded me how exciting it can be to meet someone who's brain works differently from your own. She was warm and forthcoming about her time at Singularity University, a place I'd never heard of, but am now extremely grateful to know exists.

Isabelle Ringnes of TENK (Tech Network for Women in Norway)

TENK is a non-profit organization aimed at encouraging more women to pursue education and careers in the tech industry. Founded by two "technology-loving non-technologists," TENK supports and promotes women in tech in Norway through presentations, campaigns and events like Girl Tech Fest at Oslo Innovation Week. Isabelle and I share a passion for getting more women involved in tech on all sides, but her efforts are far more professional, organized and inspiring.

I also authored the City Essentials and the section on Programs--accelerators and incubators--in town. If you're thinking about starting a business in Oslo, please order a copy from the Startup Everywhere website . I hope you'll find it a useful resource!

And this November, look up for Startup Everywhere's exciting new app: Startup Guide Maps. Meeting a critical need for European entrepreneurs, the app will make finding the essential resources for your idea and company easy wherever you land. It will feature ''all the co-working spaces, incubators, accelerators and cafés with wifi" in the cities they've profiled so far, and more than a dozen new cities are in the queue for 2017!

Here are a few photos from last week's book launch party at MESH Norway for Oslo Innovation Week 2016:

Clockwise: Me, Thomas Nymark Horsted (Startup Everywhere Co-Founder), Sissel Hansen (Startup Everywhere Founder), Kriszti Toth (MESH Norway Co-Founder)

Having done all the plausibly necessary prep , Jonathan and I set out for our first backpacking/camping trip with our 15-month-old daughter on a sunny Saturday in July.

Our destination was a little lake called Skjennungen , approximately 5km from Frognerseteren (depending on the trail you choose), at the end of the 1 Tbane line. We've camped there sans baby twice before. It's close to Skjennungstua , an unmanned hytte on top of a hill, which gave me some comfort in the event of a freak thunderstorm or baby-related emergency. There are also trashcans near the hytte, which meant we could unload some waste weight before the longer hike home on Sunday. Our route took us out by way of Ullevålseter , a manned hytte, where we planned to stop for a coffee break. Total distance over two days was only about 12 km (7.5 miles). Click to enlarge the map below.

We left after naptime on Saturday. The metro ride took about 40 minutes, and we disembarked at Frognerseteren at 3:45pm. The ability to start summer activities late in the day like this is one of the many things we love about Norway. Sunset in Oslo that Saturday wasn't until after 10pm.

• In Jonathan's pack (32 pounds) : tent, sleeping bags, sleeping pads, warm clothes for the kid, extra socks for all, books for all, food for one breakfast, one lunch, and one dinner, a backpacking cook stove and pot, plastic cups and sporks, water pump and filter, camera, and extra backpacking-related stuff (small lantern, waterproof matches, knife, etc.).
• In my pack (40 pounds) : a 15-month-old Cheeks McGee, water for all, first aid kit, trail snacks, diapers and wipes and waste bags, the kid's favorite stuffed animal.

Over the next two hours, we tramped along dry, well-marked trails, taking time to point out different types of trees, birds, and flowers to the enraptured baby girl. She got to see butterflies in motion, which garnered major giggles. She ate blueberries. She tried to get a good look at an itty bitty frog that her mama couldn't quite catch from within a patch of grass. She picked up stones and traced her fingers through the dirt in the trail. She tried to sing along to various hiking songs. Happy Trails, Row Your Boat, etc. But mostly she sat quietly with a fresh breeze in her hair as her parents talked about interesting things. McGee was a backpack champ. After a couple of breaks, she even voluntarily returned to the pack and attempted to saddle up herself. We will be buying our own Deuter Kid Comfort 3 soon!

Arriving at Skjennungen just after 5:30pm, we decided to eat dinner before setting up camp. (One thing about having a baby--even an easy-going one--with you... there's less flexibility when it comes to the timing of meals.) A couple of campsites closest to the trail were already taken up by tents, but one less accessible site, on the opposite side of the lake was open. After boiling water on the stove, I sat at a picnic table and fed the kid, while Jonathan hurried to stake our claim.

A smart move. Previously, we'd found spots in the heavily wooded area around the lake that worked for us, but this lake spot had plenty of flat, open spaces for the tent, as well as easy access to water, large boulders for sitting and stable food prep, and an idyllic view.

Tent up, pads down, bags in. The MSR Mutha Hubba is an excellent family tent. Plenty of horizontal room for three sleepers. (Extra, of course, when you've only got two and a half.) Plenty of vertical room for sitting up to read or chat. Airy without the rainfly on, but we weren't taking any chances, so we put up the rainfly and dealt with the tent being a little warm for a while.

The toughest part was getting the babe to sleep.

Quick explanation about what we call "normal" sleep at home:

McGee has been a solid 7-to-7, no-waking sleeper since she was 5-months old. Bedtime at home starts with a regimented routine including dinner, bottle, bath, story, and a quick lullaby. No tears. Most nights she actually points to her crib mid-lullaby to move things along. I leave the room while she's still awake and don't hear from her again until 7am. I know. Insane. And awesome. We sleep-trained. That's a whole other story. The thing is, I wasn't sure how any of this would translate to sleeping in a tent with her mom and dad. We never co-slept, so this is a totally foreign thing for all of us.

We attempted some semblance of her usual routine around 8pm, and I intended to stay in the tent to help her fall asleep. This totally threw her off, and she stared at me quietly for almost 10 minutes while I sang and pretended to sleep next to her. Then she got up and started crawling around the tent. I tried putting her back down and leaving the tent. Jonathan and I watched the sun setting over the mountains across the lake while listening to the babe rustle the sleeping bags. This also lasted about 10 minutes before she started to cry. Next we both tried getting in and reading beside her. She was obviously tired, but totally confused, and began doing laps around the tent, rolling around at different points trying to get comfortable. We let her have a book, too, and read it to her a few times hoping she'd fall asleep that way. No dice.

It took me more than an hour to consider that a little containment might help, since she's used to sleeping in a crib, not a big, open tent. She protested for a minute or so after I snuggled her up between Jonathan and me and restricted her movements to that space, but then relaxed. Another ten minutes of lullaby-time later, she was fast asleep. By then it was almost 11pm, a full 4 hours later than she usually goes to bed. I was able to leave the tent to go to the bathroom without waking her; Jonathan and I even talked for a while inside the tent. She stayed asleep with a couple of exceptions--brief wakings at midnight and 4am which included her sitting up, saying, "Dada!" with surprise and enthusiasm, then flopping over and falling deep asleep again--until 7am. Unbelievable.

Here I'll mention that, for a sleeping bag, we used a thick Vertbaudet sleepsack with attachable sleeves . She always uses a sleepsack at home, so this didn't require any adjustment. Though the tent was warm when we went to bed, the night was chilly, so I had bundled her up, including a lightweight, wool balaclava-style hat, the one that makes her look like Baby Joan of Arc. Her hands were still cold to the touch throughout the night, making Jonathan and I wonder if we should try bringing mittens along next time, but overall, she was perfectly comfortable temperature-wise. Had we known that, no matter how long it took, once asleep, McGee would then sleep through the night, I think both Jonathan and I would have slept better, too. As it was, we were both on high-alert the whole time. We woke at the slightest shift of anyone else in the tent. When we did doze off, we were restless. It didn't help that the rest of our camping gear is more than a decade old and well-loved, so one sleeping pad had sprung a leak, among other minor inconveniences. Still, we managed a few hours of shut-eye.

Dawn came, and we woke to a pristine mountain lake, a clear sky, and our daughter asleep between us in the tent. She lay on her stomach on the sleeping pad, cheek pressed flat, lips like a pink bloom in the morning light. That magic alone was enough to make the whole trip worth it. The fact that she woke with a huge smile, elated to find herself still in a tent with both her favorite people, was gravy.

We took our time getting ready to go, and the process reminded us very much of the old camping trips we took pre-parenthood. Jonathan boiled water for coffee, tea and the baby's grøt. We sat on a large boulder, barefoot, gazing out at the glassy lake and mused about the difference between crows and jackdaws, and the baby babbled in agreement. We ate cold Pop-Tarts (a splurge here in Norway, but it reminds us of home) while the baby drank a boxed juice. Then we packed up the campsite--leaving it cleaner than we found it--and prepared to go. Here, the McGee surprised her parents by figuring out the Camelbak to quench her own thirst.

The hike to Ullevålseter was a breeze. It's a straightforward trip we recommend to all our friends in Oslo. There's nothing more uniquely Norsk than stopping at a hytte mid-hike for coffee and waffles with brown cheese. There's also a white pony who lives on the property, and that gave the McGee yet another new animal encounter!

Headed down to Sognsvann on the final push, the babe surprised us again by taking a 40-minute nap in the backpack! Afraid to stop, lest the lack of motion wake her, we did the last 5 km with no breaks. She opened her eyes as we reached the end of the lake and found a picnic table for lunch. We tossed our stale sandwich crusts to the ducks and hurried to catch the 3 Tbane home.

I will be writing a third installment in this series on our personal takeaways. We learned a lot, and we're already planning a second trip. If you've got specific questions about the experience or the ins and outs of getting into the Oslomarka from town, please leave a comment. Thanks!

See also: Camping agin; Baby on board - Part I (Prep)