I remember how clean the Oslo train
station was with flowers lining the outside walls. On a long walk I saw the famous Monolith
which is shown in nearly all art history books.
Contrary to rumor, it was not where George W. Bush got the idea for
stacking nude insurgent prisoners. After
all, these nudes are on a much higher column.
Supposing it was; it could not have been in worse taste like The Scream by Norwegian painter Edvard
Munch. I honestly don’t see how the
cultural elites get away with it. They
must have deep pockets; who else would buy the stuff? Look at the latest tribute to the
rifle’s head shot: Francis Bacon’s Three
Studies of Lucian Freud that went for an all-time record of
$142,000,000. Everyone at Christie’s New
York can take the rest of the year off, but that’s another story.
On Karl Johansgt (street) I saw many
of Olso’s old businesses: Adelsten, Brodrene Johnsten, Kaffistova, Pelo, Andvora, and The Scotsman,
an upscale restaurant, that’s still there.
I enjoy the new technology of Google Street Level that allows me to look
where I’ve been and see the new changes.
Of course, in 1977 the girls were wearing clogs and bell bottoms. Now they don’t look as stylish and even if
they did, where would they go? At the
time I didn’t see much nightlife in Oslo and I suppose it’s the same now. Perhaps I’m wrong because so many years have
passed. What I saw then were only some small
kiosks. Even Liverpool at night came
alive with neon signs advertising a robust night life.
About dark, I went back to the hotel
for the only tub bath I had in all my backpacking days. I always mention these little things because
travel isn’t always what you see on TV. You arrive.
Nobody knows you and you don’t know where to go. Sometimes the tourist offices aren’t even
near the train station – an irony I discovered more than once. Several times I could have ended up sleeping
in the local cemetery with shady characters from many parts of the world.
The Norwegians
were into smorgasbords like American are into buffets. This was different than hoping for a McDonald’s
or scavenging through my backpack for left overs and I made the opportunity
count just as I do now in retirement.
Oslo is at the base of huge mountain ranges and who’d guess where I’d
find my next meal going up into the snowcapped waste lands above the tree line
and they are formidable.
