compete

So part of the market in Kongsberg is this day-long folk competition. Anybody can enter - a few of the Americans in my group competed in dance, and the fiddler would've competed if she hadn't been totally sick. So there's fiddle, singing, couple dance, halling (the fancy men's dance), and the occasional competitor in mouth-harp, accordion, or langeleik.

This is the lady dancer's daughter and one of the star dancer boys, competing in couple dance. I think they're doing a telespringar.

How awesome is her skirt?? The Telemark bunad has a few different skirt options, and one of them is this absolutely enormous skirt that weighs a million pounds and spins almost straight out. Apparently it's quite a job to manage when you dance - if the guy gets in the way, there's the danger of the thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip effect, and you can't start or stop turning too fast or you'll get totally wrapped up in it.

In my vague fantasy dreams, I'm going to compete in the vocal category in a few years. This is a vague fantasy in which I have somehow gotten over my fear of standing on stage in front of a bunch of foreigners, in their country, singing unaccompanied in their language. Right. So, we'll see about that. To at least get over the singing alone part, I'm taking every darn solo opportunity that comes my way. In a little over a week, I'll be singing a big ole Handel piece with a nearly two-octave range (middle C to B flat) and many enormous jumps in church. Yowch. Cross your fingers for me.