Oslo Wrap Up

Oslo Wrap Up

Greatest Moments
Oslo came to life for me in that statue garden. Sure, I liked it before, but there in that garden, everything just kind of came together. It was there that I was told about how far the public transit system extended, and there that I spent a number of hours simply enjoying and appreciating – well everything.

Taking the ferry here and there, for no reason other than to see where it would get me was great. As was walking around with all the ghosts in the viking museum.

“I could do without” Moments
What did I dislike about Oslo? Here I will say the prices – though I'm told Copenhagen is worse. But it becomes easy to understand how people can afford to live here, when you realize that a supermarket check out clerk gets paid 100K an hour (twice that on weekends.) Why yes that is just about 40 dollars and hour to scan your groceries. And suddenly everything falls into place.

Things to Return For
Everything? As I said, I could live here. There's nothing not to return for. But I'd like to see more of the country. I'm told Oslo is nothing compared to Bergen in the west. Mind you, west coast people always love their cities over the – much better – main cities. I know another country where people hold that exact same attitude. Hmm-hm-hmm-hmm-hm.

What I'll Remember
Taking the train / tram in and out of the city every day. Having the need to buy a metro pass expand my horizons, so to speak.

Shout Outs
The biker from the garden.

A Dr. Who Kind of Day

Today was supposed to be a laid back day – and it was. It certainly was. I woke up, ate the breakfast, and then went to watch some internet. I tell you what, this hostel has a nefarious way of getting people to play by its rules. Sure, you can't drink here – but then who can stay up long enough to drink when you have to wake up at seven o'clock for the breakfast? And sure – you don't need to wake up for the seven o'clock breakfast, but you'll not find any cheap food in this country, so you might as well get up and feast – feast – feast.

Now, in theory this will work to my favour tomorrow morning when I need to wake up early for the bus – but I see their tricks. I understand their sneaky science here.

So on the internet, I watched myself some Dr. Who. One episode after the next, as the sky was a dismal and dreary grey. The perfect type of weather to jusitfy this behaviour. However – by the time noon o'clock rolled around, the sky was less grey and much more blue. The type of blue that calls to you, pulling you away from your British science fiction show, no matter how many episodes you thought you might watch when the day began.

Yes – in Norway, I'd been told – and now seen on several occasions – that the weather is anything but stable. In North America when you wake up, if it's grey – it's going to stay that way. And if it's blue, odds are it will be a nice day. This can change on an hourly basis here in Oslo.

So – what was the one thing that I wanted to see in Oslo, that I had not gotten around to seeing, or justified the money for? There are a lot of great museums here, and I'd gone to none. That sounds about right to me. But – there was one, not the folk museum, or the nautical museum, but the viking ship museum. That was something that sounded like it was worth seeing.

I didn't really know what to expect, but I dutifully waited for the 17 street car to take me to the main station, when I switched for the 30 bus. On board I discovered that I loved bus schedules, and that I enjoyed watched every station come by, and then pass, in such an orderly and well typed fashion. This will not do, when I get back to Toronto.

As I walked through the museum doors, I came face to – well bow, I guess – with a huge ship. Paying my 50K I went for a closer inspection. The ship was enormous, and the carving was so detailed that it was hard to imagine it being used to ferry around over forty viking warriors.

There were two other ships in the museum, as well as a number of artifacts discovered during the excavation (more on that in a moment.) Though it was a small museum, I found myself leaving no less than two hours after I had arrived. Two ships were in relatively good condition, while the other was mostly just a wreck. Although, found with it were three smaller boats, so that seemed to make up for it.




I couldn't help but think about the movie The Thirteenth Warrior, and how – every time from now – when I watch it, I can say “I've seen one of those ships.” But not just some sort of movie recreation, the actual thing. The very same boat that, over a thousand years ago, people rode to war – and could have crossed oceans in, some coming to settle in what is now Canada.

So where were these boats found? And how is it that they were excavated? Well, I will have you know that all three of these ships were found as funeral mounds. The boats were taken inland, with their deceased dignitary on board, and burried under the earth (along with belongings, animals, weapons, jewels – stolen by grave robbers – and whatever else you would need for your trip to the after life.)

Seeing these ships in such perfect condition really makes you wonder just how much history they saw, and were part of. Were I able to have a super power it would be complete knowledge of the history of an item (and perhaps, if I'm pushing it – the future as well.) This is my conservative power, of course. My true one would be to create “Groundhog Day” situations – but that seems like too much to ask.

When I was finally able to tear myself away from the ships (and finally stop photographing them – I set up a tripod on the security guards chair to deal with the low light conditions. A little girl on a field trip then mimicked me. The guard? I don't know – he seemed cool with it.) I headed outside. Still, the world was a beautiful and wonderful place in which to live. So why not go for a walk, I thought.

An arrow pointed towards the public ferry docks, so I headed down that way – passing all number of gingerbread house houses – they make them distinct and beautiful here in Oslo. I was under the impression that the ferry had stopped running at the end of August, but still I was due for a little stroll and I could find a new way to walk back, perhaps getting delightfully lost in the process.



Just as I finished marveling at all the sailboats moored up, I noticed what looked like the ferry coming in. Couldn't be though, could it? Number 91 on top. It was! So on I hopped, and rode back to the centre of town at Akers Bridge – where, failing to understand if a cheese burger was 10K or 12K (both numbers were on the sign) I headed away and ended up walking across the field from the tram stop to the hostel for my final time.

It will be unfortunate to leave this place behind, but I'm sure there are all sorts of delights in my future.

Now – if you'll excuse me – I need to get some sleep. It's an early day tomorrow.

Bus Ticket Day!

I looked at today as my last day in Oslo. Sure, there's still a full day tomorrow – but I'm thinking of taking it off, perhaps to watch some Dr. Who (which I've been told is quite fantastic.) If it's an overcast day, then this will probably be put into motion, however if it's a blue skied sunny day, there's no way I'll waste it inside. Just revisiting some of the same old haunts, or wandering the streets is always a treat in good conditions. You know – I'm pretty sure it's impossible to hate a city when it's nice out.

I wonder how much more I would have liked Edinburgh, had the castle ever been backed by blue, instead of white and grey? Don't believe a thing they say about “Edinburgh Sunshine.” It's just not the same.

So how did my day begin, you may be asking yourself. You may not be – you may have become so acustomed to these posts that you've become complacent in your questioning, only expecting. Well let me tell you, “The Philosopher” from Sophie's World would have problems with that.

Can I tell you that I just started to read Sophie's World – for the third time. I'll get through it this time though. I have nothing else to do! I almost got through it once, but my Oral Narrative University Professor stole it from me. I found it on his bookshelf once, with MY bookmark in it, at the page I had read to. He said – no, it was his, (why he had a crayon colored fish bookmark made at a camp I worked at, I'll never know.) But this time... Anyway, it makes sense to read it now, as it was written, and is set, in Norway. How's that for a happy coincidence? I clearly skipped over that part before.

I'm reading this book as I just finished “Unlikely Destinations: The Lonely Planet Story.” It's not that bad a book – but it has problems. Many problems. Too many to list here, but is it worth a read if you've ever picked up a Lonely Planet guide book? Sure it is. You can watch as the creators themselves get caught up in personal politics, and then passive aggressively attack people they've known through the years. And boy oh boy, do they love their exclamation points. I don't think I've ever seen so many! Not all in one text, anyway! But when you're passionate about something a period won't cut it. Neither will proper word choice. All you're left with is... is... is! And exclamation point! They wake you up too.

Wait, what? Oh – right – sorry. This morning. Well this morning I went to the central station and bought myself a bus ticket out of this joint. It's half the price of a train ticket, so I figured, why not. It also seems to be direct, where I'd have to switch trains at one point. And the time is the same. So all in all, I think I made the right choice. No switching means more sleeping. I just don't want to get stabbed in the face, and then eaten. But I think that only happens in Canada, right?

So after I bought the ticket, I thought I'd take a stroll to the Opera House. I'd been told it cost half a billion dollars to make, and that's what I report in my latest – though not greatest – youtube clip. How are you liking them? Are they ridiculous? Do they work? You let me know what you want to see more of. It's no skin off of my proverbial, and quite literal, back to video more or less. Ah ha! The internet backs up my half a billion dollar claim. Good for it.



So, after walking around, and missing a step and then falling a little bit around, the roof I headed back to the water, and made my way to the ferry dock. Ahh ferries, all included in your metro pass. So, why not take a little boat trip to the five islands just off the shore?

So take a little boat trip to the five islands just off the shore, I did. And what I found there was inconceivable. One island looked like one I canoed too in Huntstville. Ravenscliff for the sticklers. Another looked like a small fishing village I saw in Newfoundland. All of the were so very different from the city. And yet this still was the city! (Sorry Tony and Maureen Wheeler – I guess some times you really do just get a feel for the right time to use this mark. I take it back. You kids are o.k. in my books.)

The fact that you can hike up in the forested hills, explore urban sprawl, and walk amongst rocky islands all in one day – on one bus ticket – I just can't say enough good things about Oslo. I could live here. I haven't had that feeling about a city outside of Canada yet – and I haven't had that feeling without adding “for a year or so.” But there it is. Oslo – I could live here.

Let me look up their winter statistics for a moment. That might make me pull a Winnipeg on this choice. Pssh – average of minus 9 Celsius. That's nothing. Although the 9am – 3pm days could make me a little wonky. Still – I'd be willing to experiment. Who says that's just for college kids?

After the islands I headed for one last stop. Aker's Bridge. This place has some of the most beautiful scenery in Oslo. I imagine that this is the place where the condo prices are through the roof, and all those people that want to impress friends, and strangers, will move here. It has to be. The buildings are all artistically designed, there's an ocean, there's people selling ice cream down by the bay. In the height of the summer this place must be full of foot traffic. Even now there were still a number of people around. But not too many. This is why I don't travel in the height of the summer.

The only downside, is that you go into 7-11 with the intended purpose of just walking through a mall, and then end up with a small container of 11 dollar pasta, because you missed the /hg sign next to the price. Well, you won't make that mistake again. And, if it was served in a restaurant, it would have warranted the price. It wasn't too bad – but 7-11... Really?



The bananas were cheaper at this one. Only 10K each! That's just 2 dollars!

And then it was back. Back to the hostel, to download some videos, and try to find a good connection for watching Doctor Who. Even though you didn't really like the old versions of it. But who are you to argue with the logic of the one person who watches more television than anyone else you know?

So that will be that, Oslo. Thank you – and good night!

Oh wait – one final point. It has come to my attention that all art is derived from the male desire to get a girl naked. “Come on, it's ok – I just want to [paint / sculpt / whatever] you.” And this seems to work. Every painting or sculpture I've seen in Oslo can back that up. Even the line, “it'll be ok – I'll give you boots, and a Carmen Sandiego hat – it'll be great!” seems to work up in this city. Good for them. Once more – I bid you adieu.

On Top of Oslo

In the Sculpture Garden I met an Oslo local who, after I had taken a picture for him, told me where I needed to head once I left the sculpture garden. I claimed that I had never seen anything so amazing as the garden. He told me that Oslo may not have much, but what it did have was spectacular. Pulling out a map, he directed me to what would be my final stop for the day.

Though it may not be that big a secret for those familiar with Oslo, it is also not the most obviously place to come across. I've not seen it mentioned on any travel sites, nor is it listed as something worth doing in my travel guide. Nor those created by Oslo city.

Trusting this man clad in all his bike gear, zipping through the park, I followed his instructions and ended up on top of Oslo itself. From this vantage point it became easy to see why it is regarded as such a wonderful city. It is like Toronto, if Toronto were built in the Muskokas.

Gazing out over the city, I could hardly believe that such a place so near to the downtown existed. 300 meters above my previous location everything was put in a new, and – perhaps proper – perspective.

There were houses, and homes with roofs made of grass. I'd only ever seen these as a novelty is a Canada colonization exhibit. Here, I thought they would have been for novelty as well. However, the more I saw, the more I doubted this. Though I still remain unaware as to the purpose of it - it definitely made me aware that I was currently "the other" and what I found strange was just another part of everyday life for those living here.

Oslo truly is a fantastic city.

Vigeland Sculpture Park

Sometimes when you're travelling you come across something so fantastic, so amazing, that you couldn't have ever believed it existed. And when you try to tell other people about it, it will be but a mere shade of its actual self. Vigeland Sculpture Park is one of those places. This is a place that needs to, not even be seen - it needs to be experienced - to be believed,

For some reason this garden is located off of most tourists maps, but grabbing a copy of the Visitors Map from the metro stations will quickly show you the easiest way there. Tram number 12. Though it's accessible through other means, tram 12 will let you off right at the front gates.

Stepping through you'll be confronted by an ever opening expanse; it's best to take a picture of the posted map to refer to later when you're wondering if you've seen everything.

This is a garden with well over one hundred pieces located within it. You'll see the first few dozen as you cross the main bridge. It's said that each piece represents one stage in a humans life cycle. And while, at times, it can be cryptic – other pieces will speak to you immediately, and directly.

Walking the garden is like exploring a deck of tarot cards – except tarot cards might be a tad easier to understand. All the major arcana are represented within this garden (though most likely unintentional), and turning these works into a deck might be a project worth exploring.

Once across the bridge, you'll see a fountain surrounded by even more pieces, and beyond that the great monolith towering into the air. All the bodies entwined with one another, located here, were carved out of one piece of stone. And the work itself needed to be moved to this location, in the pre-motorized era.

Surrounding this piece are a number of other pieces, all working around a similar theme, continuing to depict the human life.

And still, there is more. Passing beyond the monolith, you'll find yourself walking towards a piece representing all the astrological signs, and then beyond it is a great circle, created by bodies grasping bodies.

Once you've reached this seemingly final work, you may think that your exploration is at an end. Of course, you missed the circle of children and babies just to the left of the bridge when you came in – and there are other sculptures tucked away at the extreme wings, not to mention more still hidden away as the paths cross through the trees.

Without a doubt this is the most fantastic thing I've ever seen in the entire world (Victoria Harbour on Vancouver Island being the last to hold that title.)

Oslo National Gallery

Stop one for the day was the Oslo National Gallery. In 2006, somewhere between Winnipeg, and Calgary, I developed a real love of art. I'm not talking “love of art” in that, I know the history, and I'm aware of eveything that led towards a pieces creation. I simply mean all of a sudden I could stand wandering through an art gallery, and even began to like some pieces over others.

I'm no art historian, nor do I really want to be, but I know what I like – and I'm even starting to know why I like it. So is the Oslo gallery a place that you should take yourself? Well that depends – does looking at art make you want to rip your hair out and scream, in rage, at the top of your lungs? It does? Well then, yeah, you should definitely visit the Oslo gallery, because it's there that you will find the one print that sums up your feelings perfectly: Edvard Munch's Skrik (The Scream.)

It can be found displayed proudly in room 24. It reminds me of something a child would have painted in kindergarten. It has the wide brush strokes of those easily affordable red handled brushes that would constantly loose hairs, but never before being completely ruined by five year olds forgetfully leaving them out to harden and dry – still covered in paint. The painting even looks as if it was painted on that bulk brown paper that will forever be linked to my early painting career in junior K.

And yet, the more you look at it the more you realize that there is nothing else in the room quite like it. None of Munch's other works even come close to matching the piece. Nor do any of the others in the gallery. It remains unique, and the more you look at it the more you begin the appreciate it. Would it still be as powerful if I hadn't been told from everything from teachers to the Simpson's that it should be powerful – I don't know – but nevertheless it was.

For a moment I stopped to think, how would the internet react to these pieces if they were posted online today? “PLZ! That is so weak! I could do better than that!” True it wasn't an “realistic” as Munch's other prized piece on display, The Madonna, but even that people would write about: “Do not want! Look at those lopsided boobs – and that waist? Gross! Give that b*tch a sammich! Om nom nom nom.” You know – it's a good thing that art came into its own before the internet. I think there's a money making website idea in that last paragraph.

There are some other pieces that are worth discovering in the gallery as well.

Dresden in Moonline, by Knud Baade, in room 22 is by far my favourite piece in the gallery. There's something about the world, not as it is – or even as it was – but how people dreamed it could or should be that is fantastic. And the lighting in this piece is just – beyond.

Bridge in Northern Wales, by Hans Gude, in room 18 has me questioning if the world ever looked like this, or if it was just fantasy. Knowing some of the wilder areas in Great Brittan I also wondering if sights like this could still be seen to this day.

The Wild Hunt of Odin, by Peter Nicolas Arbo, taking up most of the wall in room 29 is a piece that is one step – beyond. Though it comes across very dark (under exposed even, if such a thing would be possible,) it reinforces that you are indeed in the north – and that these myths and legends might live on outside the pages of Marvel Comics up here.

Winter Night in the Mountains, by Harald Sohlberg, in room 30 reminds me of the Group of Seven – and as such, home. I like it.

The 9th of April 1940, Reidar Aulre, room 32 is a very powerful piece. It's stylized, and beautiful – simply depicting a truck carrying a coffin, covered in the Norwegian flag, past a number of trees. I'd like to know more about the history behind this piece.

Medican Examination at St. Louis Hospital in Paris, by Carl Von Vanny, in room 32 is the last of the pieces that really struck a chord with me. Still – I wonder just what is going on here. Who is being examined? Once more, I'm hit with the desire to know more about a work.

The Oslo National Gallery – free to visit, with free lockers as well (lock up your gear and take to the streets if you wish) – is definitely worth at least a quick peek.

Oslo: Day Two

I'm in Oslo, Norway. Think about that for a second, will you? I am currently google knows how many miles away from my home in Toronto, spending day after day in various cities, and places around the world. And right now I'm in Oslo, Norway. Every now and then when I travel I forget just how amazing it is that I have the opportunity to do so. It just seems like “something to do.” Ahh – it's Friday, lets go to another country.

Yes – that's how quickly I acclimatize to these things. It made me an excellent Tetris player when I started off at level nine (or level nine heart in the game boy version.) And today, it just hit me for the first time in two weeks, that I'm doing things that some people will never be able to do, some will dream of doing, and others won't even know it's something that can be dreamed of.

I'm in Oslo, Norway. Fantastic.

Now – sure – you might say, your hostel is terrible. And it is. Only four people per room, and lots of showers, but the bathrooms (six stalls) are always full. I'm sure someone has locked them from the outside. It's the only thing that makes sense, unless I am in the company of the quietest poopers in the world, all competing for a time record award. Sure that was a bit convoluted, but you get what I mean.

Today was a fantastic day. It has been the best day of my travels thus far (one Friday in Reykjavik holding the crown until now, for those interested in knowing.)

I saw amazing things, and I discovered the key to the city. Let me tell you there is a secret to understanding Oslo, and it's not found in the tourist offices. Don't bother with them anyway, they're ridiculous. They make you take a number and line up to ask a question. Not only that, but they also sell train tickets, and merchandise, all requiring the same number taking line standing. It's ridiculous, and I'll have none of it.

There are five tourist maps (at least) of Oslo. All of them are terrible. I know – I have them all. I've been looking at one, plotting it on another, comparing that with the attractions on yet another, and using a final map to plot the metro route to get there. There had to be an easier way – and there was.

And wouldn't you know, the answer was to be found by following one of my own rules. Where do you go to get the best map of a city? What have I always said? What saved my butt in Glasgow?

You go to the subway and ask for a route guide. Now – the first time I did this it was a failure. I got a train schedule for the subway. Sure that's great and all (and distressingly German) but then I asked again. “Ahh, the Visitors Map.” I was told. Ahh – yes – that. Why it's called a visitors map I have no idea. It's the only map that plots subway, tram, bus, and ferry all over top of the actual city map. There's no way that people in Oslo have all this information comitted to memory. Visitors map. Please.

But there you have it. That, my friends, is the key to understanding Oslo. With it, you will be unbeatable. It shows you how to get around the core, and how to explore in all number of different directions. Once you try it, you shant go back. And oh, how you'll scoff at people using those inferior tourist maps. Please – tourist maps are for suckers. You're no tourist. You're a visitor. You need the visitors map.

In other news, still related to the metro though, it seems you have to stamp your 7 day pass when you buy it to activate it. As it stands I trammed around all yesterday “for free” how nefarious of me. I stamped it today though. This means when I leave Oslo I'll have 3 days left on the card. I wonder if I can sell it to someone? I'll look into that later.

Oh right – my terrible hostel. I never finished explaining that did I? The fact that it's not in the city core is fine – don't worry about that. Fifteen minutes on the metro and you're golden. And the station is right by the hostel (bus, tram, or subway – take your pick. I've sampled them all.) What should have clued me off was the sign that said “No drugs, alcohol, or cigarettes. Violators will be removed from the hostel.” This isn't really a problem for me. I don't use drugs or smoke, and alcohol is terribly expensive here (to buy beer in the grocery store is the same price as buying it at the bar in Iceland... Ai ya.) but a hostel that forbids them will not draw many fun youths.

Let me tell you what this hostel looks like right now – in the TV room there are eight people aged 40 – 70. In the kitchen there are about fifteen people aged 15 – 17. What the hell is happening here?! Never again. Never again will I not read the reviews before booking. And yet still, Oslo managed to impress me today.

I went to the National Gallery, the Sculpture Garden, and the the very top of the city. Each of these will require their own post. Stay tuned.

Once again – my meal was soda (orange), flat bread (tortilla), and packaged salad (potato). Fantastic! Someone's gonna get rickets!

Fresh Underwear Day

Today is fresh underwear day! Nothing can possibly go wrong on fresh underwear day! Sure, when you travel you sink wash and rinse, and air out all your clothes to get a good number of wears out of them, but none of that compares to pulling out that fresh pair of underwear, hidden away in the bottom of your rucksack, just waiting to be used when the time was right. And now, new into Oslo, the time for fresh underwear is upon me!

There's nothing like the boost of confidence, self assurance, and other words that mean pretty much the same thing, that is provided by wearing a pair of fresh underwear. With them on, I knew nothing could go wrong.

I also had a fresh t-shirt too, but – you know – so what?

Onward to the City
My hostel is located 4km outside of the city centre, which is kind of annoying, but not really a problem because a main subway station is right beside it. So off I headed to buy my forty dollar weekly pass. A weekly pass for four and a half days, you may say to yourself, but it's cheaper than the nine single trips I would need to take (at a minimum) so now I won't have to be so picky and choosy about where I'm headed and when. And if I even get myself lost, I can just jump on board a tram, train, or bus – and there I'll be.

To the ticket machine! Clad in my fresh underwear, I knew that I would have no problem buying a ticket – ohh, but there's no person to explain it to me? Fine – I can press these buttons – ohh, you need a card before you can buy time for it. Fine – I can use the other one – ohh, it's only in Norwegian. Fine – I'll just ask for help, and then press the right button. Ohh – the bill intake is broken... And I have no coins.

Clearly this was going to be a bit of a problem. Asking people to break bills is awkward at the best of time, but I found myself waiting for the bus, and asking the drive to take it apart. He short changed me 10NOK (about 2 dollars) and this wouldn't have been a problem – I'd have accepted this as the cost of convenience – but I needed all the coins to buy the pass! Ugh – with my last fifty, I headed back to the station to try and get change. Success was had, and I could make purchase of a brand new seven day metro pass! I then noticed that you didn't actually need the pass to board the trip. It all works on the honor (and heavy fines) system. I could have rode to the main station and bought my pass there. I'm sure the “I'm a stupid tourist, and it wouldn't take my money and – and – and” (and then you cry) excuse would have worked. It's one thing for a girl to cry to avoid punishment, but when a guy cries the people in charge normally feel so awkward that they've utterly broken and embarrassed the poor fellow, that they'll let them off. Next time you're stopped for a speeding ticket, you give it a try. How much is your pride really worth?

Then I'm up on street level. And I look around. Seems I'm on a pedestrian road, people walking everywhere, brick underfeet, and – And I almost get hit by a car... Again! Why is Scandinavia trying to trick, and as such kill, me?! Why do they hate me so much. Why are only some roads bricked, and in the middle of highly populated “fresh from the subway” consumer districts?! Shouldn't those be the roads most easily marked by fresh coatings of asphalt?

Fine – Whatever – I'm alive. Let's just focus on that. That and getting to the national gallery to see Munch's “The Scream.” Oh good – that gallery is closed today. Of course it is. Why would I expect anything different? And you know what? When I finally get in tomorrow, I bet I'll find that the painting is on display in some other city, not scheduled to return until the day after I leave. That's how these things work – right?

So what did I do, not really knowing the city, and having my main mission for the day so utterly destroyed? I followed a pack of Asians fresh from their tour bus. If anyone knew where the hot sites were, it would be them, and you can bet they would take dozens of pictures, peace signs held high in the sky! And – they led me back to where I started the day. Nice. Super. I love it. Standing beside the shallow pool, surrounded by sculptures of naked boys (complete with all their sculpted little bits) holding naked little girls (complete with all their sculpted little bits as well) all I could think was “my god, that is some murky muddy water.” What I want to express is that if you want to make your parliament building look good, you should really try to put some effort into having water that doesn't look like a roadside ditch, after a fresh rain. I'm not saying it's not great, and all, I'm just saying – you know – a little effort never hurt anyone.

Election Day Here in Oslo
Had I not have flocked my way back to the parliament building, I would have missed the huge set up to cover todays elections. With who knows how many parties, and who knows what they're representing, I took a seat and watched the action play out. By action I mean, of course two men talking to each other in a language I couldn't possibly understand. But, before you ask, yes that was me on the Oslo News today. I really do feel I put my best side forward.




As much as I love being on foreign television (and I do) there was no time to dilly dally. There were still so many things to do. One of which is seeing how much food cost. I could hardly afford it at the duty free shop, so what hope did I have here in the big city?

As it would turn out – none is the answer. None is the amount of hope which I had in being able to purchase food in the city. Let me make this clear for you, coke – a 500ml bottle (or 50cl as they love to say here) costs... wait for it... wait for it... wait for it... 25NOK. That's five dollars. Five dollars! We're not talking in a vending machine, or in a conveince store where the owner hates you. We're talking the super market. And if you want a 2L bottle – well too bad, they don't exist, but a 1.5L will run you 40NOK. So it's a bit better, but still – eight bucks for some soda? Please. And bananas at 7-11? Look – I should have taken a picture, because you'll not believe me. But their price was 88.88NOK – I kid you not. They're only 30 in grocery stores. Again though – bananas!

As it would turn out, ice cream, however, is on sale. Yes a tin of dog food will run you 40NOK, but for an ice cream cone, chocolate dipped, with strawberry goo inside? It's only 10NOK from now until the 19th. What was I to do but eat one? Suddenly that 10NOK I was short changed is coming back to haunt me. I could have had double the delicious treats. It's a case of most life giving calories for the least amount of money. It was the only thing to do. The only sweet, sweet, delicious thing to do.

All stores are like vending machines here – which is awkward, and interesting all at the same time. Sure they punch in the price, but then you need to feed coins into a little counting box to pay. And the change? It comes sliding out the bottom when you're done. Japan – you are one step behind this time, my old friend.

So – I couldn't see Munch's painting today – but as luck would have it Munch is dead.

Not only is he dead, but he happens to be buried right here in good old Oslo – not more than fifty meters away from Ibsen, you'll recall him as “the author of that stuff you had to read in High School.” (especially if you were in my class!) So there I went, hop, skip, and jumping to visit their memorials. I led four other tourists to Munch's somewhat hidden tomb.

On the cemetery gates, there was a map to the monuments, but when you reach the area there's nothing but a billboard for two jews that died at the onset of the war. I'm not saying their graves shouldn't be remembered too – they should. I'm saying put all four on the map, or put a billboard for the ones you have on the map, and not the “surprise, we're here too” grave markings.

I believe at some time or another, I also made my way to Oslo's palace, and witnessed a changing of the guards. But I can't be sure, because it took place 75 minutes earlier than my city guide said it would. And there were so few people around that you'd hardly know the palace was of any importance (who do you suppose resides inside, I wonder?) Well – rather than boggling my brain about it, I'll let you decide if you thought it was a guard change or not.




Heading Home
Well, to cut a long day short, I headed home after four hours of urban exploration. After all, there was some True Blood to catch up on, and my leg was starting to hurt a tad bit. My back too. I wonder if it has anything to do with the fifteen pounds of “stuff” I carry with me each and every day? I wouldn't think so, but you know – maybe?

I jumped on the #31 bus, and made it all the way to Sinsenkrysst (or what have you) and then hopped off to find my hostel.

Look, I won't go into it – but if there was one day to not forget my compass, this was it. And so, fresh underwear and all, I got lost. Terribly lost. The type of lost where you think you're headed somewhere new, and you end up in the same place you were already. I haven't been this lost since I was a child at Niagara Falls, walking out the wrong door of a candy shop. Ohh you should have seen the people run after buses looking for me.

But I made it back. All I can say is: What would I do if not everyone in this part of the world could speak English?!