…a list in progress.
1. Everything is less fun when you can’t afford to eat.
Those of you who know me reasonably well know that I’m not afraid to spend money on quality food. That’s not what I’m talking about here. I’m talking about a Big Mac costing the equivalent of $16. I’m talking about a convenience store chain selling hot dogs at a special reduced price of $7. Yesterday while waiting for the ferry, I bought a coffee from a vending machine, and it cost me $5. It tasted like petrol, but at least it gave me the energy to keep my hatred of my fellow passengers mostly to myself (I don’t count the odd glare). We’ve started gorging ourselves at hotel breakfasts, so as to at least avoid the expense of having to buy lunch as well as dinner. As a result, we roll around in the morning like Veruca Salt, and by dinner time we have that lean and pinched look of consumptive Victorian orphans.
2. Everything is beautiful all the time, so why bother trying?
Seriously. After being miserable on the ferry yesterday, I was like, I didn’t even see anything much that I couldn’t have seen from my hotel window in Voss, without getting cold or annoyed. On our utterly prosaic train trip to Oslo today, it was mountains and lakes and autumn foliage all the way. We even saw glaciers. WITHOUT HAVING TO MOVE OUR LIMBS.
3. Norwegians hate women in high heels.
It’s cobbles all the way. Everywhere we go is like the frigging opera house forecourt (though ironically, the Oslo Opera House is quite smooth). So much for form following function.
4. The key to understanding the Norwegian language is to imagine it’s English with an Afrikaans accent.
This doesn’t work for everything, but it’s surprisingly helpful. Apple = Epel. Toilet = Toalett. Menu = Meny. Oak = Eik. Oddly enough, Child = Barn (like the Scottish bairn).
5. There is one artist, and it is Munch.
In fairness, it’s the 150th anniversary of his birth, so there’s a lot of exhibitions going on at the moment, and that’s not even counting the Munch-museet. Still, you can’t swing a dead Chihuahua (from what I’ve seen, the most prevalent dog) in this country without hitting his work. The city of Oslo has even determined the exact location on which the background to the Scream was based, and allows people to go and look at it (and make screamy faces, presumably). I bought chocolate from a vending machine yesterday and there was more Munch, on the wrapper. Sucks to be that other Norwegian artist. You know, that guy.