Its been a while.
Weeks of distraction culminating in a nice little jaunt across the North Sea.
Thank you Ryanair.
It was like Norway operated on a whole different colour palette. Even the trees were different, some of them resembled upside down grape stalks. It was lovely. The coach ride from Oslo Torp to the centre heralded the joy of seeing a little triangular warning sign with a moose inside it, however that did little to alleviate the disappointment of not seeing an actual moose. There was a saturation of cultural activity, matched by a saturation of bread, jam and cereal bars. The Contemporary Art Gallery got me a little bit excited, thanks to the work of Ludvig Eikaas. So many prints, all so beautiful, a hybrid mix of everything from etchings to mezzotints, from woodcuts to silkscreen, it made me want to actually persevere with something.
There was an almighty dependence on naps, on climbing the National Opera House to see the sky no matter what time of day, whether it be sunrise, dusk or sunset, even the dead of night. The water merged with the sky when dark to give the illusion of a complete void, offset by the sporadic blinkering of lighthouse beacons, which coincided very neatly with my reading about the sublime (thank you Simon Morley). Norway also constituted many other things, wet feet, snowball fights, a sculpture park that was home to the most ridiculously phallic statue ever in existence, a tram ride up the mountains, and then straight back down again when we realised the cafe that served waffles was in fact closed for the winter, money with holes in it, falafel, a ridiculous consumption of hot chocolate, as well as a ridiculous amount of laughter (which was reason enough for our lack of sleep) being in a dorm room that reminded me of being 14 again, especially with the gossip that ensued, purple and pink skies, a perpetual absorbance in the landscape, piles of dirty snow mounted on the pavements, and the lovely prostitutes hanging out near our hostel.
Now onto the summer plans.
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