News from Norway... at last
2:02 p.m. -- 2010-01-17
I have mentioned before that Victoria is an incurable optimist. I don�t really have a problem with this charming trait, but sometimes it causes me to smile. Nowhere is her optimism more apparent than when, every now and then, she tells me she�s secured a bargain-priced flight.
The let�s have a cheap mini-break thing is usually anything but. Which isn�t a problem... but it�s certainly false representation. Like when Ryanair produce adverts saying �fly to Rome for 99p...� and then you find that it�s plus taxes, plus credit card fee, plus baggage handling fee, plus check-in fee, plus...
They ought to introduce a charge for hating Ryanair CEO Michael O�Leary. They�d make a fortune.
Can you tell that I don�t like Ryanair? (Why would I? I�m not a chav.) I like to read while I fly; I don�t want to buy a scratchcard, thank you. Amazingly, I don�t want to pay ten quid for a calendar featuring photographs of Ryanair aeroplanes at twelve different destinations. I don�t want to buy a voucher for a rail journey into London either. I hear that their latest innovations are in-flight bingo and a coin-operated toilet. Could they sink any lower? How about having a whip-round for in-flight refuelling, or you might not make it over the North Sea?
Shush. Don�t give them ideas.
We really, really don�t like Ryanair. (Who does?) But here was an offer � a genuine one, for once - to fly for a penny, each way, including taxes.
We took hand luggage only, so as to avoid the baggage handling fees. We checked in on-line, to avoid the check-in rip-off. This has the added bonus of avoiding standing in a slow-moving queue while staff who ought to be checking people in cruise up and down, trying to interest you in the Ryanair �loyalty scheme� or the Ryanair credit card. (As if. Can you imagine how embarrassing it would be to whip out your plastic, and have to show the world that instead of American Express, you have poxy Ryanair. I mean, who�d want to say that about themselves?)
We bought sandwiches at Pret-A-Minger; no in-flight purchases for us. It really did cost us four pence to fly to Norway and back.
Of course, it�s Ryanair, which means you fly to an airport that nobody�s ever heard of. A former Cold War airbase that�s now home to a flying club, and has a distinctly minimalist terminal building. (Although not as bad as �City Airport�, allegedly serving G�teborg in Sweden, where the arrivals building was just a tent, for some time...)
Still, proper airlines fly you to Gardermoen; Ryanair drop you off at Moss. If that sounds like it�s out in the sticks... that�s because it is. Fully an hour from Oslo, and a fare of around �25 for two people, each way.
Still, we hope that Ryanair made a loss on our flight. I know they get paid a kick-back for each passenger they deliver, but the flight was only about one third full. (Yep, even at a penny a seat.) Bad news for the environment... but good news for the tens of millions of Europeans who have developed a simmering hatred of Michael O�Leary, or at least become a little bit concerned about the low safety standards exhibited by Europe�s bargain-bin air travel offering (as demonstrated, famously, in the Dispatches documentary, "Ryanair Caught Napping").
And then... we were in wonderful, friendly, exotic Olso.
Oslo�s City Hall (or r�dhus) is a strange beast. It was begun in 1931, but construction was interrupted by the Nazi invasion, and it was only completed in 1950. This strange fusion of �before� and �after� leaves one wondering exactly what the architect had in mind, and if he was still available by the end of the project. Oh well; what other city can boast a cultural centre that looks like a grain lift?
This is the hall where Barrack Obama got his Nobel Peace Prize... in the same week that he announced an increase in the number of troops being sent to Afghanistan. You�re going to have to explain that one to me, sometime.
Of course, Oslo used to be called Christiania at one time. Then Kristiania; it only reverted to Oslo in 1924.
Too many years of the Eurovision Song Contest have left me with the impression that the word �Norway� should always be followed by �no points�. But I have to say, in the category of �best capital city�, it ranks a lot higher than certain other European ones I could mention. Including my own.
A nice sunset over the harbour...
...and real sailing ships!
We undertook a three-step harbour cruise, although we stayed on board at the first stop, which is the opera house. The next stop was a boathouse where Roald Amundsen�s polar voyage ship, the Fram, can still be seen. In both cases, it was staggeringly cold. The boathouse had ice on the inside of the windows, although perhaps that�s good for the Fram�s woodwork.
This is the harbour cruise boat. Thanks to the nice sailor who took pity on us, ushered us below and plied us with hot chocolate to thaw us out!
I never knew how Amundsen died. Do you? Look it up... what a hero! I really admire those plucky Nordic people.
December in Norway... shadows are long. (And a rare image of MFV himself... if only in silhouette.)
Many sculptures are to be found along the waterfront.
And the architecture�s not bad either.
The real reason we were there was for the Christmas market. Victoria and I often take a pre-Christmas trip to Europe, in order to get some distinctive bits and pieces for Christmas hampers, or to decorate our tree.
(Yes... this is an indicator of just how damn long I�ve been sitting on this particular diary entry. Sorry about that... life has interfered. But: a belated Merry Christmas to you all.)
Travelling in Norway is an interesting and humbling experience for the Brit, as it�s one of the few places where our money doesn�t go nearly far enough. Having all that oil revenue, needing to share their natural resources between a much smaller population, and having wisely avoided membership of the European Union, Norway is rich, rich, rich.
Which means that you can�t really expect to eat out when you get there. (Expect to pay up to �300 for a meal for two in central Oslo, the guidebook said.) Fortunately, we found a back-street pizzeria that provided us with this particularly huge pizza. More than enough for two to share, and only around �25... (!)
Traditional Nordic cuisine it may not have been, but then, who wants to eat all that pickled herring sh1t anyway?
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