Domkirken

From Göteborg, we travelled by bus to Oslo. The almost 3-and-a-half-hour bus ride was preceded by a short walk from our hotel across the road from central station. Despite the close proximity, we still left the hotel with plenty of time to spare. As we checked in, we were allocated seats at different ends of the bus, even though the first class section wasn’t sold out (as we were to realise later). I got stuck behind a Swedish (or maybe he was Norwegian) Boris Johnson look alike, who spent most of the journey eating with his mouth open, ruminating like a cow. It was like fingernails down the old blackboard. I probably should have moved seat, but I wasn't sure if other passengers were getting on at the next stop. Despite half a dozen passengers in first class, Jason was allocated next to some random person, who ended up moving to another seat but still in ear shot of her ruminating on her food. Maybe it’s a Swedish/Norwegian thing.

By the time we arrived in Oslo, Jason was convinced he had the Rona; so, no long walks trekking through the city. Instead we got a tram to our accommodation. When we got there, we still didn't have the keycode to get into the apartment. We stood on the street like stray dogs, except we couldn't just piss against the wall.

A few minutes before the very late check-in time of 4pm, I received a message to say the apartment still hadn't been cleaned and that we would get the code when it was ready. We could be frozen solid by then, either that or locked up for vagrancy. In the end, they decided to move us to a new apartment; Lucky because our bladders were either going to burst or we were going to piss ourselves.

Not long after settling in, a stranger entered our apartment, but quickly retreated when he realised that he was in the wrong place. How did he have the keycode to our apartment? Maybe he had a room change too. When I called the AirBnB host, it wasn't a good sign that the first menu item was related to missing keys or keycodes. It seems that I'm not the first to have this experience.

We soon realised that nothing was open because it was Whitsunday and the following day was a public holiday. With 85% of Norwegians identifying as Evangelical Lutherans, it seems they take their religious holidays seriously. No food outlets or restaurants were open and the only supermarkets doing business were the Joker minimart-style chain stores. They were the size of a shoe box and had a very limited range to choose from. It seemed the other 15% of Norwegians were as prepared as we were for the public holiday and were walking out of the Joker with whatever they could get their hands on. For a moment, it reminded us of images of the Soviet Union in the 1980s with people queuing at the shops and shelves that were almost bare.

The following day, we explored some of the nearby attractions. The Royal Palace was closed to the public, but the Slottsparken, the royal garden, was open for exploration. It is the only European royal garden open to the public all year round. After watching the changing of the guard, who were all women by the way, we wandered around the city centre. The Opera House serves not only as a performing arts venue but also doubles as a lookout point over the city. The building is shaped like an iceberg, which I assume would camouflage it in winter as the city is blanketed in snow and ice.

For people who live in a country that experiences long dark winters, so-called spring brings some relief. But at 14 degrees there was no way that these Aussies were following the crazy Norwegians in their mobile saunas on the Oslo fjord. They sat in their sauna, and then when they were hot enough would exit and plunge into the cold water. I watched from afar still in three layers of clothing.

The next day was the hottest day we've experienced in the past month. It actually got to 21 degrees celsius. Before it even peaked, the Norwegians were stripping down to their bikinis and undies to bathe in the sun. I did actually get hot enough to unwrap some of the layers to bare some skin. It wasn't exactly shorts and t-shirt weather but I did get down to a t-shirt and jeans.

It was perfect weather to traipse all over the city, including Grünerløkka, a gentrified neighbourhood known for its street art, stylish bars, dance clubs and cafes. After a brief rest, we continued on our journey to explore Vigeland Park as the tourists call it, Frognerparken to the locals. The name Vigeland Park comes from the name of the sculptor Gustav Vigeland, who created a permanent sculpture installation between 1924 and 1943. The installation consists of hundreds of sculptures amongst bridges and fountains.

After more than 25,000 steps, it was a wonder we made it home without wearing out the soles of our shoes. I don't think I could feel my feet by the time we stepped into our accommodation. But there was only time to rest momentarily before heading to our next destination.

Next destination: Stockholm.

Norwegian: Hei (Hi), Takk (Thanks), Ha det (Goodbye)Read more