Itchy Feet

We are in Europe. WOW. When I wake up in the morning after realising that Maya isn't sleeping next to the bed, and I start to miss her... then comes the slap in the face that holy crap... we are on the other side of the world, away from anyone we know. Then the excited, spontaneous Leah jumps in and my feet get itchy. Dom's feet are itchy too. We want to travel! See everything! There are so many countries and so much to see and do and they are all so close. Ah, but then the moral dilemma of money. Money sucks totally. We really want to make it work here, which means jobs and such. The mature adult in me thinks nei (no), don't go to the zoo today, that is $80 a person and you might need that money in a few weeks when you still haven't found work. The 'screw the system' Leah then thinks BUT this may be the only chance we have for a long time if we get jobs and such.

The job hunt: hard. We have been to every employment agency in town, and they basically all politely said 'okay, we'll keep your CV and call you if anything comes up, but don't count on it because you don't speak Norwegian'. The lady at the government office (as far as I can tell is supposed to help EU nationals find jobs) was down right rude to Dom. We've been told that hopefully we can get the regular immigrant jobs like picking strawberries or cleaning hotels until we learn the language. So, slowly I am translating vacancies online and then we'll hit up hotels and such next week. Until then, I am cramming the language in... Ipod style. Can I pay someone to download it into my brain or hypnotise me to learn it?