I had only been on the road for about 20 minutes after leaving the Car Cemetery before hitting the Norwegian border. It was a pretty simple affair, though being a tourist in November seemed to single me out for a few extra questions. The agent had me pull over to the side, and I was expecting to have him go through my stuff like the guy parked next to me. Instead he asked me a few questions about my trip, how long I had been where, and then suddenly asked me if I smoked weed. It was clearly meant to be a Gotcha! question, and I seemed to pass cause he smiled and just waved me on. It seemed odd after the "Canadian marijuana" conversation outside the Mastodon show and makes me wonder about any other hidden American stereotypes. I blame Colorado.Crossing into Norway it was almost immediately obvious they had gotten more snow than Sweden, but the roads were well enough traveled that it wasn't an issue. It also seemed that Norway liked building tunnels more as well. A dozen or so tunnels later and I was on the outskirts of Oslo, where there were even more, longer tunnels. I'd only run into the issue once while in Stockholm, but my phone doesn't even try to act like it knows where I'm going once it gets into a tunnel. This wouldn't be too much of a problem if it weren't for the fact that there are several exits and branches inside the tunnels and traffic circles immediately upon exiting tunnels. As a result I took a slightly more scenic route to my accommodations for the night, a hostel just outside the downtown area.
About an hour after leaving the Car Cemetery my wrist was at peak "ouch" and I was driving one-handed (it's my left wrist and I'm left handed). By the time I got settled in my room I wasn't really in much of a mood for exploring. The only thing that finally got me out of my room was my growing hunger. I mentioned this in the first part, but I've been eating more McDonald's meals than I care to admit. While in Stockholm I came to the realization that Swedes don't really seem to eat out much. They mostly eat out for lunch, and it's mostly shit food. Aside from the ubiquitous McDonalds and a handful of Burger Kings (the fast food, not the boat) there were also tons of little grills and kebab shops situated at busy intersections, near metro stations, outside every shopping center---just everywhere. They aren't little carts on wheels or food trucks like you might see in major American cities, but small four-walled brick shops---they have permanence. They are, relatively speaking, cheap places to eat in a city of expensive food. The few places of quality I found in looking around seemed geared more toward special occasions or tourists. I did come across a fantastic vegetarian restaurant at the top of my 144 stairs in Stockholm, but I didn't find it until the end of my stay and never found time to get back there.
Instead of ruining all the hard work I've done over the last 7 months of losing a not-insignificant amount of wait, I decided when I got to Oslo that I would start stocking up on things I could keep in my room, and keep cold on my window sill, from local grocery stores. Much like Stockholm, Oslo has little grocery stores all over the place. Indoor shopping centers almost always have one or more that usually have some kind of options or fresh takeaway food as well. Being on the outskirts of the downtown area there aren't any of those shopping centers near the hostel, but there was a small discount grocery store (think Aldis) that had a surprisingly good selection of baked goods and even more surprisingly good quality sushi (I have no idea where it's prepared, but it said it was that day and it was better than any grocery store sushi I've had before). It wasn't boldly exploring the heart of a new city, but there is something decidedly adventurous about grocery shopping in another country. You get to see what foods and items people at home value and prefer. The wide variety of fish wasn't surprisingly, but the variations of salt and salmon, or salt and cod tell you a lot. The surprise in people's voices at an English speaker in the grocery store, where there was never a sound of surprise out in the city or even on the road, was telling as well. I wasn't exactly a trailblazer, but I was definitely taking the road less traveled.
The next morning I woke up to a light but steady snow that got heavier as the day went by and didn't relent until well after dark. I took my time at breakfast, trying out a small selection of brined cod in various sauces (I identified a sweet mustard one and a tomato-based one, the other I don't have a clue) and cod and peppercorns in brine alone. I killed some more time in the common room of the hostel working on the pictures from the previous day. Finally I had to decide whether I was going to completely squander my time in Oslo or deal with the snow and head out. I went with venturing out, though I cheated and took the car downtown instead of trudging down the street trying to find Oslo's metro (the T-bane here). I parked out of the way so that I could walk a big loop around the city center. I was immediately solicited by a prostitute, though I didn't realize she was a prostitute until I came back later that evening and two women who were most definitely prostitutes were in the same spot offering "suck suck."
It was much colder than my days in Stockholm, being somewhere around 24 or 25F, and although the snow wasn't as tiny and sharp, it was windy and constantly blowing in my face. I didn't make it far before holing up in a coffee shop with a good view of Karl Johan gate, the main shopping district of Oslo. The streets weren't as busy as Stockholm, and there weren't quite as many people on bicycles, but I don't know if it was the weather or if Oslo isn't quite as gung-ho as Stockholm is when it comes to walking and riding all over the goddamn place. I eventually left the warm safety of the coffee shop and went around the corner where I was first drawn by a large ferries wheel into what turned out to be a large Christmas market. It was full of seasonal foods and vendors selling delicious smelling meats and sausages cooked over large grills or open fires. There were stalls selling a variety of handmade cold weather items, a few selling what were apparently high-end Norwegian brands of gloves, sweaters, and hats that seemed to be of questionable provenance. Considering a pair of lamb skin gloves at the Fjallraven store (a very popular Swedish brand of outdoor gear, even in the US) was over $100, the dubious gloves at something over $40 weren't bad regardless of where they came from.
Random ambling and the sound of bells led me to the Rådhus, Oslo's blocky, Functionalist style city hall. I thought I was heading toward the domekirke, the Oslo Cathedral, which is the flagship of the Church of Norway. Instead of was greeted by a massive, rectangular facade of large bricks, with a minimalist bell tower, some burtalists looking sculptures, and then a giant ornate-by-comparison astronomical clock. Wrapped around it like curved arms in the style of the square in front of St. Peter's Basilica are two open-air galleries with sculptures carved in wood depicting several scenes from Norse mythology. Had it not been 10 minutes before closing I would've gone in and explored some, but timing was not on my side. After wandering about the Rådhus some I walked around and finally saw my first glimpse of the waterfront as the last bit of the day's hazy light disappeared. An old fort protects one side of the harbor while mid-century buildings and new construction sit on the other. But the cold was getting to me, the snow whipping harder, and it seemed like most things were closing up for the day so I meanderingly made my way back to the underground parking garage where I met the Suck Suck Girls, politely declined their services, and spent an hour trying to make the 15 minutes drive back to the hostel.
I was returning in what I assume was rush hour traffic, the snow was starting to win out over the plows and sanding, the tunnels were totally fucking with my phone. I got within a kilometer of the hostel only to be thwarted by a steep, ice coated hill that I was doing a surprisingly good job of climbing until a bus slowly started to spin counter-clockwise, Google Maps did not like my failure to follow directions and sent me in a series of circles, repeatedly trying to make me go up that damn hill, before I started making executive decisions based on my limited knowledge of the area and finally made it home where I enjoyed another trip to the grocery store.
I woke up today to find the snow having changed over to rain and I immediately slipped and face planted into the ice. My only saving grace was that I had both arms full of crap so I couldn't instinctively screw up my wrist any more. The ridiculously slippery parking lot, the wind and rain, and the creeping feeling that I'm running out of time and opportunity to get north and catch the Aurora only solidified my decision not to spend extra time in Oslo. In just a few minutes I will hop back into my car and head north. It will probably take me two days to get to Tromso, leaving me very little time to get lucky.
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