OSLO NORWAY Finding diamonds on The Fjord
Norwegians say there’s no
such thing as bad weather, only wrong attire. In Oslo, you can apply that
philosophy to every aspect of life!
We were at No. 5, Sophies
Gate, in downtown Oslo, an address familiar to Jo Nesbø’s readers. One of the
nameplates at the entrance to the building says ‘Harry Hole’. The moment when
fans of the fictional detective are introduced to this quirky nugget is a
highlight of Oslo’s Harry Hole walk, a two-hour guided amble through streets
and past buildings traversed by the now-famous detective created by Nesbø, the
Norwegian crime writer who’s garnered international fame.
The make-believe
nameplate made me smile. The seemingly impassive Norwegians are fanciful like
that. In fact, at the starting point for the walk, the Best Western Hotel on
Karl Johans Gate, our guide, a feisty lady of sixty-plus, told us, with no
apparent intention of causing alarm, that the hotel, established in 1899, was
haunted and that its original owners were given to walking the corridors at
night to check if everything was as it should be.
WATCHING
THE DETECTIVE
The Harry Hole walk on a
mellow spring evening, one bathed in golden light, ended at Restaurant Schrøder
on Waldemar Thranes Gate, the detective’s preferred hangout, despite him taking
the occasional dig at the meatballs on the menu, which also includes
traditional Norwegian fare like reindeer burgers and steamed cod. I didn’t dine
here, preferring to check out one of the hip, new places. Grådi, which means
greedy in Norwegian, is one such restaurant, serving delicious takes on
Scandinavian favourites like pate on rye, with beetroot jam, crispy fried
oyster mushrooms and bacon.
Grådi is in Tøyen in the
Gamle – or old – Oslo borough which is better known for the Munch Museet. I had
to go and see The
Scream – not just because
it has been described as a ‘Mona Lisa of our time’ for its depiction of an age
wracked by anxiety and uncertainty, but because it was at the centre of one of
the most dramatic museum heists of recent times. Stolen in 2004, Munch’s
masterpiece was recovered in 2006 by the Oslo police and is again on display,
captivating and disturbing in equal measure.
The walking tour through
the backstreets of downtown Oslo, including past the Cemetery of Our Savior
where Henrik Ibsen and Munch are buried, and near which the opening scene of
Nesbø’s The
Devil’s Star is set, was
off the beaten track. I did, however, get talking with a young Czechoslovakian
student in the group who’d read all the Nesbø titles in Czech and had come to
Oslo just to go on the Harry Hole walk.
CHEERS
TO GOOD CHEER
Oslo’s more conspicuous
attractions are strung around the fetching fjord at the head of which this
achingly beautiful city sits. There is the medieval-style Akershus Fortress and
Castle, built in the 14th century and besieged several times by the Swedes. If
you, like me, aren’t too keen on photo-ops with the royal guards, it’s
wonderful to sit at one of the bars across the water and admire this splendid
edifice from afar and watch the sailboats skimming the water. Despite the
travel brochure panorama, I couldn’t help telling myself the small pint of beer
was costing me what a decent bottle of wine would back home. But that is Oslo
for you, one of the most expensive cities in the world. Even the locals
complain and think nothing of flying out to Berlin, where the beer is cheaper
than water, for a weekend of heavy drinking.
Which brings me to the
cover of a book I spotted in the airport bookstore: That sums it up.
The Norwegians you
encounter here don’t give much away. They are immensely polite and
well-mannered. Motorists wait for pedestrians to cross, bus drivers step out
and unfold a ramp for wheelchair-bound passengers to board. Even if you happen
to get into conversation with a stranger at a café, no one asks ‘Are you
married?’ or ‘Any issues?’ An Oslo pub or bar, then, is a place to see usually restrained Norwegians abandon their inhibitions.
On a bright day, the al fresco cafés lining elegant Karl Johans Gate –
described as the Champs-Elysées of the North – froth with people drinking beer
and wine while sunning themselves. It quickly became one of my favourite spots
in the city, too, and I spent hours people-watching. It’s a fashion parade of
stylish Oslo folk striding past purposefully in their snazzy boots and spiffy
jackets. Then there are the clusters of tourists from China and now also Korea,
easily identified by selfie-stick and package tour cap.
Lonely Planet’s
recommendation that Oslo is one of the top 10 cities to see in 2018 hasn’t been
taken lightly.
WHERE
TO HUG A TREE
At one end of Karl Johans
Gate is the parliament and it’s not unusual to see a minister cycling by. Cut
to the sirens and stop-all-traffic routine our netas command. At the other end,
sitting atop a slope is the royal palace, an impressive structure in the
Neoclassical style. It is from its balcony that the Norwegian family watches
the parade on Norway’s National Day, May 17. I was there during the
celebrations, when otherwise modish Oslo folk come out wearing Bunad, the
traditionalrural attire. It makes the promenade seem like a huge stage with
everyone in period costume. For all its modernity, this is still a place of
myth and legend, folklore and fable, trolls, ghosts and Norse gods.
Sprawling all around the
palace is a verdant park. ‘Walk on the grass’, ‘Hug the trees’, say the signs
at Slottsparken. This is a country that has traffic signs for children playing
(speed limit 30) and for elk crossings. After lunch at nearby Den Glade Gris
(The Happy Pig), a cured pork specialist, I spent an afternoon in the park,
reading Nesbø under a tree bursting with spring blooms, marvelling at people
who preserve their green spaces with such care. Littering is a no-no and
citizens diligently clean up after their dogs and empty it into bins assigned
for the purpose.
In Oslo, you can never be
far from a park where nature’s splendour is complemented by thoughtful,
aesthetic design that makes it easy to access and enjoy. The Vigeland Park is
both a green space and a massive open-air gallery for the display of Gustav
Vigeland’s massive sculptures of men, women and children, all naked. Be
startled, shocked, surprised or simply take in the heady scents rising from the
rose gardens. The museum fiend has more places to see – and spend kroners in.
There’s the Viking Museum, one dedicated to the cultural history of the
country, and the Kon-Tiki Museum, which I enjoyed, tracing the adventures of
Thor Heyerdahl.
SEASOns
by THE SEA
The Ho-Ho bus does the
round of these, and another kind of hopping on and off is possible when you
take a boat trip to the islands scattered in green heaps across Oslo Fjord.
There are few travel experiences to equal being on the deck of a boat on the
fjord – the spring sunshine on your face, the air fresh and pure, and
everything bathed in the clean, sparkling light of these Northern reaches.
The seasons set the mood
in this part of the Northern hemisphere. But Norwegians say there is no such
thing as bad weather, only the wrong attire. Properly equipped, they enjoy
every season and the outdoor opportunities that it affords, hiking and cycling
in summer and hitting the ski slopes in winter. I had arrived in early spring,
but the descent to Gardermoen airport was into a Christmas card scene. The snow
was deep and the trees were bare. Within days of reaching, I watched spring
arrive – tentative at first, in the whispered unfurling of leaf buds and
shoots, then an exuberant, exultant surge of green, followed by the blooming of
wildflowers, yellow buttercups and purple heads of lupin dotting every grassy
slope.
This arcadian landscape
may seem far removed from the chic, urban charms of Oslo – its edgy design
stores, its modernist Opera House and 118-year-old National Theatre, the
shabby-turned-hipster Grünerløkka from where you can walk along the Akerselva
river to Mathallen, a food hall stocked with salami, seafood, oils and salts to
thrill every gourmet, and its night clubs where the city unmasks its wild side.
Still, for me the
greatest pleasure Oslo yields is the opportunity to escape into the deep pine
forests, which surround the city. Here, the only sounds you hear are the rustle
of leaves and the call of birds. You stop to see an elk’s hoof mark as you walk
along wooded paths, under cirrusflecked skies that are an impossible shade of
blue. To bring back home, I bought some smoked salmon and blueberry compote.
Also, in that imagined backpack in which travellers tote their memories, there
was the indescribably beautiful light of Scandinavia and the sight of it
dancing like diamonds on the fjord.
HTBR 5AUG18
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