What We Did on Our Holidays (Part Four)

I’m sure you’re wondering, “Holy crap, how long were you guys gone for?” As mentioned at the outset, it was about a two week trip, and recounting it even in the format of a blog post has turned out to be a bit of a task. Traditionally folks often kept a “travel diary,” but with tech being tech, I’d been relying on smartphone camera roll-assisted wetware as my notes. So thanks for reading this far, and we definitely are well past the midway point.

Saturday in the Park…

…definitely not the Fourth of July. #DadRockJokes #DadJokesRock

Apparently the “Oslo Sculpture Garden” (in quotes, as it’s actually Vigelandsparken or the Vigeland Sculpture Park) is one of the “must see” places in Oslo. I didn’t know this, but Nancy did, and without doing any advanced googling as to not spoil any surprises, we went to the Park!

The Right Keys, the Wrong Trousers

Actually, Nancy went ahead by herself, as I’d mistakenly laundered the AirBnB keys with my trousers, and those single-minded European washing machines will not let you access the wash until the wash has been washed. She swung by the Saturday market at Vestkanttorvet first, and once I’d recovered those keys, I’d followed in her steps.

A Wild EV Has Appeared!

Lame attempt at a Pokémon joke aside, there are a lot of electric vehicles in Oslo; not so many that the roads are full of ’em, but enough to notice the makes and models other than the usual Teslas, Volts, and Leafs one sees in the States. It was pretty darn cool to see an entire street lined with recharging electric cars:

I’m going to walk down to electric (vehicle) avenue.
And here’s this whimsical planter box on battery and wheels.

By the time I got to the Saturday market, Nancy had made her way to Frognerparken so off I went as well. But first, here’s what the market looked like:


Gustav Vigeland’s wikipedia page gives all the information that I probably would have copied and pasted, so you might as well as give that a read, but Oh Emm Gee, the sculpture park is a stupendous collection of works by Vigeland, depicting the human form in all sorts of poses and jumbled masses. The literal centerpiece of the sculpture park is the Monolith which is as impressive as the capitalized name suggests.

Monolith with a capital “M.” Sometimes a sculpture is… just a sculpture?
Downfield of the Monolith is the Circle of Life.
Dramatic at any angle.
If this were an album cover, I probably would have bought a copy right there and then.

Not in my camera roll were any photos of the columns atop which a female figure appears to be in various stages of congress with a very fish/reptilian-looking creature. My initial thought was this is how that “Innsmouth Look” came about, although I’d say the denizens of Lovecraft Country got fish-slapped with the ugly stick while these Viglandfolk got the (literally) chiseled cheeks and perfect proportions.

Vegans of the North Take Over

I’d noticed that vegetarian and vegan food weren’t all that easy to find in the supermarkets and restaurants. I suspect that’s because I was looking in the wrong shops and eateries, but despite the observed prevalence of chicken and/or ham in the frozen and prepared foods, I didn’t see much obesity either. Moderation in intake? What an idea!

Anyway, Nancy found a proper vegan restaurant in Oslo, Nordvegan (I immediately thought of Swedish dark ambient demigod Nordvargr – no relation, I presume), and that’s where we headed to for lunch. But first, a stop at a 7-11 for transit passes, soft drinks, and a snack:

“Fresh Moomin egg a treat!”
The view from the tram from Frogner to City Centre.

Apparently Nordvegan doesn’t have a set menu, per se, but works with freshly sourced produce from local farms and vendors to come up with interesting and delicious things daily. Pictured below was what I ate: the most inventively named enchilada that I’ve see with a not-too-crispy spring roll. Holycrapthatwaseffindelicious.

No forkin’ around, this was one of the best meals of the trip.

There Beneath the Blue Urban Skies

After lunch, Nancy went to the National Gallery where Edvard Munch’s The Scream is on display (and from what she told me later, there’s a line of folks waiting to strike that Macaulay Culkin “Home Alone” pose in front of it for snapshots and social media). I wandered around the area, occasionally plunking at my jawharp (and why not?).

Plonk, plonk, plonk, plonk. Hey!

Once Nancy got her pre-20th century ya-ya’s out, we meandered back to a bus stop (passed what appeared to be a festival of folk dance and music) and made our way to the Oslo Opera House which features a singular architectural design with a rooftop observation deck that affords a stunning view of the city.

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From the roof of the opera house, Oslo.

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Back and There Again

The view from the tram from City Centre towards Frogner.
A grand day out (tracked by Google).

Despite the step-saving convenience of clockwork public transport, I wondered why my feet hurt. Bad shoes, no doubt. And the following day we started our journey back to Oregon by the way of London Town!

On to the home stretch!