Thursday, April 12, 2007

Turning Norwegian whether I want to or not

Imagine my surprise, today, when after going for my walk using the Nordic walking sticks (second time, more on that later) I go into my blog to do a post about the walk Blogger account was now in Norwegian. Not my blog, mind you, they hadn't Babel fished that, but all the things surrounding my blog, the background stuff, the dashboard, all of it, was in Norwegian. Whafuck?

Now, while I read it fairly well, and understand what's going on, I really didn't want to have to do all my management things in Norwegian, when I have a hard enough time understanding technical webby type stuff in English. When I blog I am half brain dead already, after a long day of work or whatever, so I really, REALLY don't want to put in any more thought than I have to. So, I was understandably miffed that suddenly I was being forced into Norwegian, after all that crap with the stupid Google takeover and new sign in process and shit. (Which, might I mention, I still hate and I miss my old, simple SHORT log in process.)

Anyhow, I understood HOW I was now considered Norwegian, as my ISP is Norwegian and well, I live here, but I did not like having the choice taken away from me without my consent, you know? I mean, bad enough that everytime I clear the browser history Google reverts to Norwegian, and I get Norwegian ads on any website I visit, and I read the news in Norwegian, and I get tons of Norwegian spam....but now my blog has to be in Norwegian without anyone telling me it was going to happen or giving me an easy out? Anyhow, I futzed around, cursing and cussing, clicking on everything I could and working my way through, when I finally found the explanation, below.

Eight New Languages for Blogger
Here at Blogger we believe that everyone all over the world should be able to express themselves online. When our attempt to translate into “love” (a supposedly universal language) failed, we decided to take the more effective route of translating our interface into rather more literal languages.

Today we've unveiled Blogger translated into: Nederlands, Türkçe, Dansk, Norsk, Svenska, suomi, Русский, and ภาษาไทย. This is in addition to the eleven language choices we already offer, bringing the total to 19!

To change the language in which you use Blogger, go to our Choose a Language page. To change your blog’s language, go to Settings > Formatting.

Thank effing God they gave me an out, as I was already composing nasty grams.

However, having my blog go Norwegian would just be another step in the assimilation that I seem to be undergoing. After the Great Skiing Experience of the other week, I got my Nordic walking sticks and have been overcoming my fear of looking like a goof and teaching myself how to use them. Turns out....ya just sort of walk and it works itself out. Easy peasy. Oh sure there are some small rules to follow (keep the sticks behind you and use the thrust from behind to push yourself forward, never bring them before your forward leg) but really....any idiot can do it. There are a few frustrating things, mostly having to do with adjusting to different surfaces (gravel on asphalt is very slippery and the little rubber bottoms just don't grab) but I am already noticing the extra workout in my upper body and somehow, oddly enough, it IS causing my posture when I walk to improve and my upper body tension to relax. I am pretty tired after the walks (I love to walk and rarely go less than three miles) and feel like I am getting a good workout.

Of course, so far the only other person I've met using the sticks has been a guy who was at least 70, but hey, the way I look at it, I am doing preventative knee maintenance and getting into what looks to be a big upcoming trend, so look at me being all Scandinavian and ahead of the curve! By the time we're 60, we'll ALL be using the sticks, though then we'll actually need them, even as we pretend it's just for exercise.

I also realized maybe I am more Norwegian than I thought (and way un Texan), as today I wore a dress with no tights, leggings or other leg coverings, just my screamingly white, bare legs, and I got some funny looks from a few folks. Then, I realized, that this morning as I went to work it was no more than maybe 50 degrees outside (7 Celsius), if that, and it DID NOT BOTHER ME AT ALL. In fact, in my little Zara wrap dress and light leather jacket, I was perfectly comfortable, waiting for the train in a patch of sunlight, in a temperature that in Texas would have me in a coat. This weekend we are supposed to get to 65, and I am going to sit outside in shorts and a t shirt and tan my white legs.....

God help me, I've been assimilated.

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