[I am home again but in the busy days at the end of my trip, I didn’t have time to post. Then jet lag took me out my first days at home. But there’s so much more I wanted to write about my fantastic journey.]
New Year’s Eve, Oslo, Dec. 31, 2018
When I walked into my Oslo hotel room I thought it might be the ugliest room I’ve ever seen. One of the booking sites described it as “industrial shabby.” I didn’t know that was a thing but if it means 60’s throwback colors of lime green and orange in the same room, I’m not for it. Also, it must be worst view of all of the hotels this trip; from my window I see the roof of the attached shopping mall and a small slice of sky.
I should quit complaining. I’m in Oslo.
I’m in Oslo! I have two full days, New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day and the city is still dressed for Christmas.
The train trip from Bergen lived up to its reputation as one of the most beautiful train rides in the world. I arrived on Sunday afternoon but it was already dark. Still, I hit the streets starting with Karl Johans Gate. The main pedestrian walk and heart of historic Oslo, Karl Johans stretches from the train station to the steps of the royal palace. It was still festive with Christmas lights and decorations and lively with people; such a great vibe.
This morning, I returned to the palace grounds. I was heartened to find that you can still walk nearly to the front door of the palace.
I always stop by to say hello to the statues of Maud (Queen Maud and grandmother of the current king of Norway) and Camilla (Camilla Colette, a writer and advocate for both women and animals). Most of the palace’s surrounding park is open to the strolling public; there’s even a sledding hill for kids.
None of the museums I wanted to see—the Vigeland, the National Gallery (where Munch’s “The Scream” is located), or the Home Front Museum in Akershus Fortress were open for the holidays but I had a slim hope that they might be open in expectation of tourists for the holiday but, again, holidays are more important than tourists in Norway.
New Year’s Eve and Hungry
I must make a decision whether I go to one of the Indian or Chinese restaurants I found in my wandering today to spend the money on a real sit-down meal, or take the easy route and go the organic fast food place in the train station with very good Thai food and spend a quiet night in my ugly room. I feel I should eat in a real restaurant at least once and if not New Year’s Eve, then when? If I could be guaranteed a table next to a window overlooking the main pedestrian street, I would go to the Indian restaurant. I should at least give it a try. Every time I find myself being a little afraid to do something, I tell myself to stop making excuses and give it a try.
So I put my swagger on (this is my woman-traveling-alone walk meant to portray strength and confidence; all women know this walk because we use it every day; it’s our don’t-mess-with-me walk) and went out, down Karl Johans Gate and found the Indian restaurant I had seen earlier (that I was able to find it again was a triumph; most of the many miles I have put in on foot are the result of going in circles being lost). I hesitate to take my map out (screams tourist) and I usually only ask directions when I want to start a conversation.
The second floor windows of the Jaipur Indian Restaurant looked out on the holiday pedestrian traffic of Karl Johans Gate.
When I asked the hostess if it was possible for me to sit at one of the tables by the windows she asked me if I had a reservation; I didn’t have a reservation on New Year’s Eve; I was already thinking what I would settle for at the train station Thai place. She did have a small table by the window but it was only available for an hour. Not a problem. All that practice of speed eating in my working life is good for something.
My pushiness and showing up on New Year’s Eve without a reservation was way too ugly American but I was treated like a special guest. I ordered Navrattan Korma (vegetables, a creamy sauce, almonds, cashews, pomegranate, and chunks of homemade cheese) and it was hot, mildly spicy (I was given a choice of spiciness) and served with a separate bowl of rice; the sauce itself was served in a dish over a candle warmer. It was a lot of food but I ate every bit. My diet Coke was poured into an elegant wine glass. I was done in forty-five minutes sharp and didn’t feel hurried. I thanked the hostess for getting me in. I don’t know if it is a family-run restaurant but it felt that way.
I got back to my room around 6 p.m. For more years than I can remember, my New Year’s Eve has been spent at home, with a dog, watching Netflix, and falling asleep on the couch. So after my delicious dinner, I was just fine with a night in my ugly room watching TV and going to bed early (besides I could celebrate the Central Time Zone New Year’s at 7 a.m. the next morning at breakfast).
The clerk at the front desk (a young Swedish man who had perfected his English by playing basketball in California and was now working in Norway; think about that global combination for a moment) asked if I was going to watch the fireworks. A good viewing spot was only a few blocks away. I decided that, if I was still awake, I could at least check out the situation and, if it felt safe to be wandering around a major city at midnight, I’d take a look.
I was awaken by the sound of fireworks at 11:45 p.m., quickly threw on my coat, and headed down to the hotel lobby.
Turns out my hotel is just short walk across the square to the opera house and sits right on the harbor. A long ramp leads to the roof of the opera house, several stories high, and is one of the viewing spots for the New Year’s Eve fireworks. A steady flow of people made their way to the roof of the opera house like pilgrims to a holy place. I made it as far as the walking bridge across a harbor channel when the fireworks began in force; I had an unobstructed view at the bridge rail so stayed put.
There were fireworks going on all around the harbor and all around the city. The two main spots were located across from each other on the harbor. The official display coming from the city hall that I had found earlier in the day during my random walking.
It is also traditional to get sparklers and so the crowd was full of light too. It was a mob but a fun mob. I was cautious about going out at midnight on my own but it was a jovial and multi-national crowd of all ages including families with children. There was a lot of ahhhing and oooing and kissing at midnight. The night was beautiful too, no wind, clear skies, and balmy (if you’re from North Dakota). There were some people dressed to the nines, young girls wearing mini skirts you can’t sit down in, and groups of rowdy but well-behaved young men who seemed younger with their faces lit up by the colors; it was one big happy group thrilled like children.
When the fireworks finished with cheers all around, I went to the one convenient store in the train station that was still open and I got a machine cappuccino and a bottle of Coke Light (no sugar).
I’m now sitting in the lobby of my hotel near a very tall Christmas tree. There are about fifteen other people hanging out. Two very dressed up couples are behind me laughing. A pair of younger couples are sitting in a circle of chairs talking quietly. A few others are just sitting in big arm chairs looking at their phones. We all seem a bit at loose ends but not wanting to go home after the fireworks.
So this is what people do on New Year’s Eve? This is what causes New Year’s Eve envy and regret?
I don’t think anyone is having a better New Year’s Eve than I am and I haven’t felt that way in a long time. Doesn’t it seem sometimes that everyone else is always having a better time?
But then not everyone can stand near the Oslo harbor and watch fireworks light up every corner of the city . Maybe it’s because alcohol is so expensive in Norway, but I didn’t come across one obnoxious drunk. There was no pushing or shoving, just a bunch (there might have been close to a thousand) of people having a good time.
I will return to my ugly room but all is forgiven. If not for the miserable view, I might have stayed in and watched the fireworks from the window. Instead, I was outside, in a mass party, watching the Oslo New Year’s fireworks reflected in the harbor.
There’s watching and there’s participating. Participating is almost always better.
Journeys 