Oslo

When I arrived in Oslo on Tuesday morning, is was a rather dreary day: grey and snowy. On a side note, I found it the airport customs extremely lax. I didn't have to do anything except for walk through a door labeled "Nothing to Declare"; no showing my passport, no declaring I was there and for what purposes, no nothing... I was a long way from the States, for sure!

Upon finding my hostel, I could tell you I wasn't staying at the finest establishment in Oslo. I actually had to walk through someone's room to get to mine. But aside from a few needed renovations and my roommates either not speaking English or being super weird, I was happy to have a place to stay. After getting settled in--which should read, "after throwing down my 30 lb backpack"--I went out for a walk about town. I had no clue where I was going to be very honest. So I just followed the tourist street. Eventually, after passing a ton of buildings I took pictures of but could not identify for my life, I wound up at the palace. That's about the time my Wallabees gave way from under me and I busted my butt. Surprisingly, this was the first--and last--time I busted my butt the whole trip. But trust me, there were hundreds of other times I came close.

Also while wondering around, I stumbled upon the harbor area. This was probably my favorite part of the city. Granted it was covered with a ton of snow, but I still liked it. Actually, I found a little hill to climb overlooking it which, oddly enough, had a FDR statue atop it. (Norway had a much bigger part in WWII that I realized...) Sitting up there with FDR, the sun began set. And though the sky was mostly grey, there were still a few hints of pinks and purples to be seen. I think that is why the harbor was my favorite spot.

Not wanting to stay out too late into the dark--as I was later informed my hostel was on the street of drugs and hookers--I wandered back to my accomodation. If there is one thing I learned in all my wondering around Oslo, it is that they have an abundance of 7Elevens, TGI Fridays, and Burger Kings. That latter I wasn't so suprised about since I have seen them in every European country I have been to, but I swear I saw more 7Elevens and TGI Fridays in Norway than back in the States... Who would have thought!

When I made it back to my hostel, I greeted my (weirdo) roommates who were still glued in the same spot as when I left--their beds--again. They were not sociable in the least. But luckily, the guy whose room I had to invade to get to my own was rather nice. I had met him on my way in and out. So after having no luck with my own roommates, Sebastian--that was his name--invited me to a cup of tea. Initially as we began talking, I learned that he was from Poland and was a visiting professor at a college in Oslo. As we got to chatting even more, I discovered that he had spent time working in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee as part of his Tourism study. Sadly, if wasn't Dollywood, but still... I couldn't believe it! And of all places he had worked in Tennessee, one had been Cracker Barrel. It made me laugh when he told me that Cracker Barrel was "full of old people who told me about Jesus, but I liked it very much". I told him I was sure he had probably met my dad. Ha! Oh, another thing he told me about that I loved was the name of the church he attends in Oslo: St. Olaf. ...Umm, are there any other Golden Girls fans out there that get that reference! Anywho, Sebastian was a great guy, and I was glad to meet him and have a cup of tea. Shortly thereafter, I headed to bed.

The next morning, I got up early, fumbled through the dark to get dressed and packed, and headed to the station where I caught my next train to Trondheim.