Two weeks and two jobs later

How a cleaning job makes me feel at home

I had been in Norway for only two weeks. Hardly enough time to fully process that I live here now. And yet, life was already taking shape. In that short time, I had found not one, but two jobs.

It all started when I bumped into the local cleaning lady, Marit.

Together with a colleague, she runs the local laundromat. Due to illness, that colleague had to step away. And just like that, I was offered the job.

From our first meeting, it was clear Marit needed help. But she didn’t try to convince me. Instead, she asked if I wanted the job. If it felt right. If I was willing. My comfort seemed to matter just as much as her need for help.

Very Norwegian, as it turns out.

I quickly felt at ease with both Marit and the work, so I accepted the job. Still, she mentioned a hotel that was also looking for staff. She thought it might suit me as well. That’s how I ended up with a second job, though that’s another story.

Just as I had expected, Marit and I work well together. We drive from house to house, turning every place upside down (quite literally).

“Should I move this table to clean underneath?” I asked once.
“Move everything,” Marit said. “And clean under everything.”

The work is hard. But from time to time, we’re welcomed with coffee or, on special days, traditional Lefse. These little breaks give us the energy we need before heading to the next house.

Sometimes, while scrubbing a neighbour’s toilet, I realise how unexpected this new life still feels. I never imagined I’d get so close to people so quickly. I see them literally in their homes, figuratively in their lives, and then again in the supermarket at night. Coming from the city, this world feels small, and that takes some getting used to.

For Marit though, it’s all routine. With only one laundromat in the area, everyone depends on it. She cleans houses of former teachers, her doctor, people who are somehow close to her. And yes, their shower drains clog with hair, just like anyone else’s.

Everyone is connected to everyone. And although it’s different from what I grew up with, I’m starting to appreciate it.

When the houses are done, the laundry begins.

Dozens of kilos of clothing pass through our hands. We straighten them, fold them, and stack them with precision. Quite ironic, cause I’m actually not precise at all…

I’m the kind of person who ‘folds’ her clothes… in the air. I just toss them together, close the door and call it ‘clean.’ And don’t even ask about my underwear. I’ve never folded that in my entire life.

Yet now, folding clothes has become a big part of my days. And honestly, I love it. Not because of the work itself, but because of what it brings into my days.

As we drive, Marit tells me about Norwegian habits and the latest village gossip. We talk about people, about life, about everything in between. She points out details I would never notice on my own, and gives advice that put me at ease during this first period of settling down.

By spending time with Marit and learning the rhythms of this place, I’ve started to understand something about work. The value of work goes far beyond the practical side of it. The real meaning is found in the life around it, and the connections it creates.

Cleaning, in another chapter of my life, might have felt small. Temporary. Here, it feels bigger. Meaningful.

It fits within my life, and adds a lot of value.

I’m getting to know people. I’m starting to understand their habits, humor and language. And because of that, I start to feel part of something. And that, I’m realising, makes a real difference between a house and a home.

I couldn’t have wished for a a better start of this new life.

Thank you for coming along!

Jule Noah