Before going any further, I want to mention something that’s come up twice so far. At the soccer game, a guy with two kids came up to us and started speaking (I assume) in Norwegian. He was pointing at his tickets—I thought he was suggesting that we were in his seats, but he wasn’t holding the tickets close enough for me to see them. I said “English,” hoping that he could explain what the problem was so we could solve it together. Instead, he turned around and walked away. I think the problem was that he was looking for different seats in the same row because we saw him shortly afterward on a different stairway getting situated.
Then it happened again while we were trying to get un-lost looking for the reptile park. We were staring at a map we had along, trying to figure out which intersection we were at, when someone walked up to us, pointed at his own map and started speaking (I assume again) in Norwegian. We quickly explained that we were from the U.S., so he spoke to us in English and we were able to help him out. As he walked away, I grumbled, “I look too Norwegian! Dammit!” We’ll have to see if this remains an ongoing issue.
Anyway! We walked away from the embassy and decided it was time for lunch. Given that it was just down the street from our hotel, we had to eat at The Hard Rock Café, Oslo. After all, “Only losers don’t eat at the Hard Rock when they’re there.” That’s what Mom said. Or that’s what she implied. Okay, I’m the one who said it, but I’m sure she must have been thinking about it in some small part of her brain.
The food was pretty good and we had some deliciously fruity drinks—we were tempted to stick around for a second serving of fruityness—but we passed. As the waitress brought the bill over to the table, my foot was sticking out slightly (it helps straighten out my knee a little) and she stepped on it lightly. “OW!” She looked immediately apologetic, I said it didn’t hurt and I was fine, so she told me, “I was just flirting with you.” And in a Norwegian accent, that sounds hot.
Oh, and for the heads of the Hard Rock establishment, I have a suggestion: Mom asked if I wanted a t-shirt while we were there, but I didn’t think it was a big deal. On the other hand, if I could get one from Hard Rock Antarctica… there’s your next project, people. Get on it.
The weather was kinda shifty during the course of the day. It was threatening to rain most of the morning, started to pour when we got inside for lunch, then died down as we were ready to leave. Given those conditions, it was pretty obvious that yesterday was the better day for a walking tour around the city. So at that point, we’d pretty much run out of things to see in the city, so we headed back to the hotel, took a nap, ate at TGI Friday’s for dinner (it was two doors away from us, so we didn’t have to walk very far in the rain)… pretty uneventful for the rest of the day. Well, there was a walking statue across the street and a demonstration happening in the park—one person would yell in Norwegian, then someone would yell it in English—but those were fairly insignificant compared to everything else we did during our time in Oslo.
Tomorrow will be an entirely different story. After so many days of walking, it’s time to spend one on our backsides driving cross-country. Well, maybe only half of the country, but it’s going to be a long time on the road. Sleep is good, but not while you’re drivings, so it’s time to get some now.
