For me, last night was unfortunately a reminder that sometimes your body has a hard time even when your mind is having a great one. Sleep proved elusive and was fragmented when it came at all. Accordingly, finding coffee was especially prudent this morning. The target this time was Supreme Roastworks AS, a company that originally operated exclusively as a wholesale roaster but later opened its own coffee bar in Grunerløkka, later followed by a second bar in Aker Brygge. I visited the first of the two this morning, but in hindsight wish I’d perhaps chosen the other, as it appears to be a larger, more visually interesting location (including, evidently, a Porsche parked right in the lobby). Nevertheless, the original venue succeeded in demonstrating the mission and quality of the business. I went with their single origin espresso in a milk beverage this time, and while I could nitpick that they gave me a slightly different drink than what I ordered, it would be a meaningless critique. It can be risky pairing fruity, acidic espressos with milk, but in this case the fruit qualities of the coffee worked with rather than against it, creating a berries-and-cream quality. I’m beginning to think I could be here for quite some time and still not sample all of Oslo’s worthy brews.
My dad and I were delighted to discover that, by pure serendipity, someone had placed a farmer’s market right along the path to our next destination. My hometown of Madison, Wisconsin is home to the largest producer-only farmer’s market in the United States, and my family frequented the spot in my youth. Needless to say, we are farmer’s market fans. This market featured exactly what you might expect, with a Norwegian twist. Regrettably, with only one full day remaining in our stay, we were forced to restrict our participation to observation only, no purchasing allowed (although I admittedly started calculating how much lefse I could feasibly eat in 2 days).
The Norsk Teknisk Museum (Norwegian Museum of Science & Technology) has been around since 1932, but opened the doors to its current location in 1986 (a great year). I entered the museum ready to absorb information and learn some new concepts. I was unprepared for the assault I would experience on whatever remaining sense of youthfulness I still possessed. Evidently, I have reached the age where vestiges of your generation are now worthy of museum display, requiring informative placards to explain their bygone purpose. Age jokes aside, I most enjoyed the museum’s considerable collection of cars, motorcycles, planes, and other vehicles showing their progression over time. (Thankfully, my Subaru Outback station wagon hasn’t made the cut yet.)
As we rode the train back to the central station in downtown Oslo, we experienced a peculiar scenario. Public transit in Oslo operates similarly to that which I’ve encountered in other cities, in which tickets are purchased largely on the honor system and only occasionally checked by transit authorities via randomly scheduled sweeps. One such inspection occurred during this particular ride. The monitor came down the aisle, stopping at each and every group to verify tickets…until she reached us. It was as though we were ghosts on the train, completely ignored. We still haven’t managed to make sense of the episode, in case any savvy Norwegians want to enlighten us. (We did have proper tickets, for what it’s worth.)
My dad and I agreed that it would be a shame to have such nice weather and not spend at least a little time on the water, so we returned to the Opera House/Munchmuseet area to hop aboard the Legacy of the Fjords, an all-electric, zero-emissions boat that operates daily tours in the Oslofjord. The barge is a twin vessel to the Vision of the Fjords, which covers a tour of the Næøryfjord between FlÃ¥m and Gudvangen that I covered in my 2019 blog. The most remarkable thing about these ships is how utterly silent they are–even if you strain to listen, there is no sound to be heard. Not surprisingly, we were joined on the water by other boats of all shapes and sizes, sailboats crossing over large cruiseliners as well as tiny rowboats. The tour gave a beautiful perspective of the city we hadn’t seen before, and also raised several “what’s that over there?” moments that will require further research on our part.
To close the day, we met up with Hans-Ole Hummelvoll for dinner. Hans-Ole is the brother of Helge Hummelvoll, a photojournalist who was tragically killed in Sudan in 1992 while on assignment for Norwegian Church Aid. Helge was a friend of my dad in the late 1980s/early 1990s when they attended school together in Columbia, MO. So it was decidedly doleful circumstances that led to my dad’s eventual acquaintance with Hans-Ole, years after Helge’s death. Hans-Ole was a riveting dinner companion; his love for Oslo is readily apparent, and I particularly loved hearing about his longtime involvement in Oslo’s Pride celebrations, which he explained are probably the most well attended of any celebration in the year. (Syttende mai draws a larger single-day crowd, but Pride, as a multi-day event, has a heftier overall attendance.) I really appreciated Hans-Ole’s company as well as his candor discussing his brother’s life and legacy.
One more full day in Norway. It feels equally believable, equally unfathomable. I will save my insights for tomorrow, when my sleep deprived brain doesn’t feel like it’s melting out of my head. Til neste gang.
Where the Waterfalls Mean Home 