A Bit On Norway.

Oslo ain’t cheap. But don’t let any Norwegians hear you say that! Before heading there I read that any comments of such a nature could be construed as an attack at their country’s economic prowess - so don’t do it. Vocalising your disdain for whaling or other morally-questionable professions could get you in a similarly awkward situation, although they’d probably talk you round so succinctly, you’d be fantasying about clubbing baby seals in your sleep. See, they’re a proud, practical, and intelligent people, most of whom speak our mother tongue better and with more eloquence than fifteen of your average fifteen year-old mothers in Britain. Put together. Actually, that doesn’t sound eloquent at all, more thick and gobby. But suffice it to say they’ve got some smarts, and they’ll happily argue with a less-informed tourist should you be comparatively thick and gobby enough. So, how expensive is it? Well a pint will set you back about £7, a McDonalds meal around £12 - Space Raiders, £16.50 a bag. Na, just kidding - not even Scandinavians would pay over 15p for such a scuzzy pickled-onion-flavoured corn snack. As much as my friend and I had decided not to keep banging on about price differences between England and Norway, it was impossible. I tapped her on the shoulder whenever the most humdrum of supermarket products was three times the price “Holy shit! Uncle Ben‘s is five quid a jar!” She’d pull on my sleeve whenever something cost almost the same “Ooooh, toilet duck is only fifty pence more than Tescos…I wonder why?” After which we’d exchange complex theories about the potential reasons. Perhaps Norwegians don’t poo so often, or scoffing whales make for cleaner poos, or maybe it’s just subsidised by a government paranoid about poo-stained toilet bowls.

So Oslo. It is a rich city, not just economically, but also culturally and, surprisingly to me, ethnically. I’m assuming all other ignoramuses like me considered Scandinavia to be whiter-than-than-white. Cities the Third Reich would fill their pants over - right before they realised hating everyone else on the planet wasn‘t their thing. However, wandering around the Norwegian capital there’s seemingly hundreds of Pakistani and Indian restaurants, plus a ton of Vietnamese, Turkish and Polish businesses - I understand there’s also a large Swedish and Dane contingent, but then Scands all look the same, don‘t they? Sorry, that was a poor attempt at racism. Nick Griffin would not be proud. From the tiny snapshots I observed, everyone seemed to get along swimmingly.

Although Norwegians (very generally) have a reputation for their direct, almost to the point of rudeness (well if you didn’t know already, you do now - so spread it around so I‘m more justified in saying it), I found the vast majority of Oslo(nian?) folk to be warm and helpful - especially the unlikely middle-aged man in the tourist information centre who noticed my British Sea Power t-shirt and gave me a thumbs up. Bumbling up to several locals while slightly lost hiking near Sognsvann lake - very picturesque and well worth the short train ride to the north - in their perfect English they were happy to point us in the right direction, right direct as it may have been. They’re also not prudish. There’s more naked statues in Oslo than there are euphemisms for nakedness. They mainly congregate in the Vigeland Sculpture Park, tucked inside Frogner Park a little out of the city centre. Not that I’m ripping any of this off Wikipedia, but there’s 212 in the buff, completely starkers, bare-skinned, totally bollock (or equivalent lady parts) naked, bare-skinned, nude figures - and that’s me out of synonym ideas. They display an array of human emotions, ranging from gut-wrenching sadness, to heart-warming loveliness, with some homoerotic and just plain weird thrown in between. In fact, they‘re mostly just homoerotic and weird. When guys aren’t just standing and staring at each other’s genitals, they’re wrestling (while staring at each other’s genitals) or simply striking a pose gayer than Mr Gay UK (while staring at their own genitals), they’re trying desperately to shake off a tiny ninja baby attack, the target of which I can only assume is genital-related. The park’s centrepiece, however, is genuinely impressive: a 30ft (or so) granite column made entirely of intertwined figures, their mass embrace is actually quite moving - in my view, a must-see for anyone visiting the city. If you’re a bit of a perv, it’s even better.

Before this just peters off into a condensed list of other Oslo attractions worth a visit, I’ll write a follow-up at some point, where I’ll no-doubt talk about the Edvard Munch exhibit (he wrote the Scream horror movie series), the Museum of Modern Art and its massive inflatable slide (it’s the tongue of a giant mouth that comes from where women pee out of), and expensive bus station toilets with free sick and heroin residue. Tune in next time for that and tons more! Or if I can’t be arsed, this’ll have to do, won’t it? So there.