Europe Trip, Final Chapter - Oslo

In the Copenhagen airport, I had a beer while waiting for my plane. It was just under 11 dollars Canadian. It was the most expensive beer I had ever bought. That record lasted approximately 5 hours...

It was snowing when I arrived in Oslo. Not exactly a surprise, it's fucking Norway after all. But this was a LOT of snow. Everywhere else in Scandinavia, I had heard the same thing over and over... "This is the worst winter we've had in __ years!". In Oslo, the blank was filled in with a big 20. And I actually believed these people, because it was fucking nuts!

I got onto the airport train (37 dollars for 20 minute trip), and tried to get a glimpse of the city on the trip in. Unfortunately that wasn't going to happen, due to the combination of a heavy snowfall and the train doing 220km/h. It was the whitest whiteout I've ever seen. It was so bright I couldn't even look out the window. It was whiter than Barack Obama. I've never seen anything like that.

So, I arrive downtown and FINALLY see Norway. It's pretty cool. When I planned the trip, I picked a hotel that was only 3 blocks from the train station because it'd be easy. Uh, no. Due to the insane snow and my shitty sense of direction, it took an hour to traverse those 3 blocks. Dammit. All was not lost though, because the hotel girl upgraded me to an apartment just because I was from Vancouver. Score!

After dropping off my stuff, I immediately went for a walk. The hole in my shoe was acting up again due to all the snow, but whatever...I'm tough. Unfortunately, all the cool stuff in my tourist guide was completely covered by snow too, which made the things less than enthralling. I seriously didn't find 2 or 3 of them until I was standing right in front of the things, because the snow completely covered them up. And these things (statues, BUILDINGS) weren't small. The harbor was absolutely awesome though, snow or not.

The streets were pretty clear of snow, but it was still a bitch to get around anywhere. I think you know what that means. A nice comfy seat in a pub, stat. I found a pub called The Dubliner. Now, anyone who's traveled a bit knows that Irish pubs in other countries are NEVER actually Irish pubs. They're decorated like one, but there will invariably be a local behind the bar, who doesn't speak English, and there's not an Irishman in sight.

Until this pub.

I walked in, and the bartender was Irish. The customers were all Irish and English. There was rugby on TV (coincidentally a game between England and Ireland). It was awesome, for about 45 seconds. I ordered a pint, and the nice bartender said "71 kroner please." A simple math equation in my head stupefied me.

The pint was 13.50 Canadian. Ouch.

I figured maybe I ordered the most expensive type of beer or something, and sort of blew it off. It was my last stop and I had money left, no biggie. The two Irish guys next to me were babbling about something or other, and they were super funny. Turns out one is a comedian. We talk for a bit, and after I inform him that I'm Canadian, he says to the bartender:

"Aye! Barkeep, get a beer on me for my new moose fucker friend over here."

Moose fucker? Really? That's what we're called in Ireland (and apparently Oslo)? Wow.

I certainly wasn't complaining though, since beers were worth more than Milo makes to work a 24 hour shift as a paramedic. I happily consumed that pint while the Irish guy took off to watch the game in the back. I offered one in return, which is usually the rule, but he turned me down and said it was okay. Super nice guy. With my newfound wealth, I figured I should order some food. Fish and chips seemed reasonable in a place like this, right?

31 dollars. Yeah. After that raping, I decided to call it an early night before I had to call my bank to get my credit limit raised.

I got up early the next morning (which was the norm for my trip) to go for a longer walk around the city when there weren't many people around. As expected, it's really very nice. Still lotsa snow though:

These people had left their bikes there 4 hours before that. Seriously.

I had heard the people were cold (no pun intended) and would try to avoid speaking English, but I didn't find that to be the case at all. Everyone was super friendly, curious about my motives for being there, and eager to direct me to cool stuff in the city. It was a very enjoyable cruise around, which had me end up at the harbor again because it's really cool. Here's another harbor pic, just for fun:

I thought the Canada/USA gold medal game was going to be at 2am Norwegian time, which would have made things very difficult for me since I had to be up at 6 to begin the long trip home. To my elation and surprise, I walked by the TGI Fridays and saw the sign out front: "Canada vs. USA Hockey: 9pm".

9pm? YES! I could watch! I immediately became very excited and did a little dance, which earned me a few odd stares, but I didn't care. Canada was gonna win the gold, and I was gonna see it!

I spent the rest of the day alternating between walking around the city and anxiously waiting for the game to start. I could have watched in my hotel room, but that didn't seem like much fun. Why not go to TGI Fridays? Even if I was the only person in there, at least someone else would be bringing me (expensive) beers, right? Right, dammit. After purchasing an energy drink for 45kr (about 8 bucks!) to make sure I stayed awake...it was fucking game time.

So I walk in and take a seat in front of the big screen. Predictably, it was dead because it was a Sunday night. I was perfectly happy watching by myself, but nooo...someone had to ruin my fucking serenity. Who you ask?

The people that ruin EVERYTHING. Americans.

They weren't even cool Americans either. There were 3 of them, 2 guys and a girl. One had a Team USA jersey on, which almost made me hurl. Of course, they sat down right beside me and talked to me, because that's what ignorant people do. I resisted the urge to Ric Flair chop all of them, and found out they were from Denver. The one wearing the jersey said they weren't really hockey fans, he just bought the jersey because "the colors were nice". What the fuck?

I spent two and a half periods drinking pricey beer and going completely bonkers over every little thing. The waitress asked me, in a very, very polite way, to keep it down a bit, but eff that. I couldn't help myself. The Americans didn't really do or say much. The girl was even reading a book for part of it. I was surprised any of them actually knew how to read.

So, 30 seconds to go, we're up 2-1. Then...Parise scores and nearly crushes my bloated heart. The Americans don't even jump up or do anything in particular...they just say "We tied it up. Great." That was both good and bad, because if they had blown up I might have clubbered one of them...but it was just retarded that they didn't react at all. Way to be a debbie downer, nerdbombers. I went for a walk in the intermission, because I was pretty worked up.

I came back, and...the game wasn't on. Some Norwegian news show was. I thought it was an intermission show, but...it didn't end. I frantically ran over to the waitress and asked about it, and she changed it to another channel that was now showing the game. I was hugely relieved, but what the fuck? Who changes the entire STATION that's carrying a game right before overtime? Fucking Norway.

So, overtime. Some oohs and ahhs, nailbiting, etc...then Crosby scores. I go absolutely nuts and start running laps around the bar screaming and yelling "YESSSS MOTHERFUCKERS WE'RE THE FUCKING BEST MOTHERFUCKERS" I stop back at our table and show what a good sport I am by yelling "HOW YOU LIKE THEM APPLES MOTHERFUCKERS!" at the Americans.

Aaand I was removed from the premises.

I went peacefully, but managed to yell "I'M GOING TO SING MY NATIONAL ANTHEM BACK AT MY FUCKING HOTEL! WOOO!!" for some reason as I went through the door. Go 13 dollar beers. I'm nice and mature.

I raced (well, waddled) back to the hotel and caught the medal presentation, and, true to my word, stood up, took my hat off, and sang O Canada as loud as I could. Alone in my hotel room. I don't care if that's weird, it felt right at the time, okay?

I went to sleep as the happiest fat Canadian guy in Norway (or the only one, take your pick), and got up in the morning ready to tackle my multiple flights home with a big sloppy Canadian smile on my face. At the airport, I had 420kr left. That's about 75 bucks, give or take. Lotsa money. I also had 3 hours to kill, so I went to the pub.

85kr for a beer. Around 16 bucks. Officially the most expensive pint I will probably ever buy. I actually kept the bill in case people didn't believe me. I just checked the exchange rate, and it's actually gone down a fair amount since I was there. Today, it's a nice tidy 14 bucks. Like that's any better. So after that pint, I had 325kr left. I thought "I don't even have enough left for 4 more pints." With just under 60 bucks in my pocket! Besides the fact that those are probably the thoughts of a degenerate liquor pig who obviously doesn't have his priorities straight...what the fuck!

I realized I didn't have a book for the flight home, so I went over to the bookstore, terrified at the thought of the prices there. I picked up The Heroin Diaries by Nikki Sixx. 139kr. A relatively paltry 27 bucks. I needed a book though, so that was that. I had enough left for two more pints, so I savored those bitches like they were the last piece of poon I'll ever get, and eventually it was time to go home.

I was actually sad to be leaving Norway, because I really liked it. I wish I had more time, because there are plenty of other places in Norway I'd love to check out. Of all the Scandinavian countries, it was my personal favorite. The only problem is how ridiculously expensive everything was. I'd have to save up for a looooong time if I wanted to go back. Once I hit the rest of the countries in the world, it's at the top of the list for a repeat visit though.

On the plane, I thumbed through the airline book to the menu page. A beer was 28kr. 28. Just under 1/3 of the price in the Oslo airport. Absolutely unbelievable. At that point, I demanded a recount and immediately renamed Iceland as my favorite Scandinavian country again. I can do these things. Why?

I'm cool like that.