Alternative Oslo. Going up in the mountains and down into underground music venues.
I wake up to photographs of Wayne’s sausage breakfast, then at the crack of noon we head out into the big bad world, wrapped up like wrapped up things on a very cold day.
The day started with the collection of match tickets from the FAW hotel. Old faces were reconnected with. The usual discussions about cheapest beer were more intense than usual. People were getting excited about a pub that only charged £8 a pint. We didn’t pay too much attention, we weren’t going to spend all day in a pub.
Our man Wayne came to the hotel to pick us up and whisk us off on his grand tour. We were going to bypass the main attractions and see the city through a local’s eye. We zipped around the Munch museum and the opera house, up to a hotel on top of a mountain to the east of the city. There we stopped to look over the harbour. Wayne pointed out some of the main attractions and gave us a little history. It was like our usual walking tour, but without the walking. Less steps, more pointing. We discussed the recent death of the King of Norway, people with too much money buying sculptures and too much education resulting in a shortage of trades people.
The snow that had caused so much disruption when we arrived couldn’t have been timed better. It meant that the rugged beauty of the area took on a Christmas card appearance. The city looked like it was somewhere cold. Like Norway. When snow hits Wales it causes chaos. In Norway they have enough snow plows and gritters to open everything up quickly. There’s also a law that says from October onwards everyone has to have chunky winter tyres on their car. As a result, Wayne’s urban Tesla was nipping around as if there had been no snow, sticking to the road like the proverbial to a blanket.
After admiring the scenery we scoot back down into the city and take a brief walk around the grounds of the Royal Palace, which dates back to 1812, when Oslo was called Christiania. There’s blokes stood around in ceremonial uniforms with rather odd plumes that cover half their face. Seems odd to me, guards wearing a uniform that prevents them seeing half of what’s going on. But hey, they looked good.
Before we know it we are back in the Waynemobile zipping through an extensive network of road tunnels that run under the city. They also run underneath the harbour. You can tell is you are under city or under the water by looking out for big bubbles painted on the walls.
The network of tunnels is so vast Wayne managed to get lost, so we had an extra go around. Eventually we found our way out and were zipping past the marina. Obviously in this neck of the woods marinas can freeze, which does significant damage to any boats. To avoid this, they have a huge system that pumps bubbles into the water, constantly breaking up any ice that threatens to form. As a result, this is the most expensive marina to dock your boat in the world.
Next stop is a viewing platform on the western side of the city. We look down on the snow covered landscape and can see a huge lake starting to freeze over. Wayne digs out his Welsh flag. Photographs are taken.
We then go for a scenic drive around the mountains, past Olympic ski jumps and eventually stop off at a large log cabin cafe for hot chocolate and cakes.
The cafe sits at the top of Korketrekkeren (Corkscrew), a 2km tobogen run that dates back to 1867. It is free to use and you can hire sledges to go down the mountain. It’s pretty old school though and not for the faint hearted. Being at the top of the mountain, obviously we get another fantastic view over the mountain.
Our next stop is Holmenkollbakken, an Olympic ski jump. We get out and have a walk around. We stand next to the huge jump which is almost sheer. As far as I’m concerned coming down this slope wouldn’t be skiing, it would be controlled falling. And you wouldn’t have a lot of control. Eddie The Eagle must have been off his trolley. First built in 1892 it has been rebuilt nineteen times and used for numerous championships. We take photographs, but don’t jump.
Our next stop is to pick up Wayne’s wife, who works in a local kindergarten. They breed them tough around here. When the babies have an afternoon nap they wrap them up and leave them in their prams outside. Apparently the cold air helps with their breathing and gets the kids used to dealing with cold weather. They are not insane though, they bring them indoors if the temperature drops below -12C.
Next stop is to see Wayne’s horse, which is kept at the historic Bogsrad stables. Originally built in 1540 it was handed down through the generations until it reached three sisters who then handed it over to the local council: it has been municipally owned since 1952. It sits next to a huge lake and really is a spectacular place to keep a horse.
We briefly go back to Wayne’s home and meet his wonderful family then Wayne drops us off at Punjab Tandori. It’s a busy little establishment, more of a cafe vibe than a restaurant, but we find ourselves soon tucking in to the most amazing curry. Wayne had reccomend it as the best curry in Norway. It’s the only curry we have had in Norway so can’t really judge, but it would be difficult to beat.
At this point, the team splits. Megan and Becks head back to the hotel whilst I head out in search of live music.
I’ve come to Norway to watch a football match. I obviously love football. But music is my first love. Whenever we go away I always look out for any interesting gigs happening whilst we are in town. Very often I can’t find anything. But for this trip I very quickly found a little venue called Revolver, and tonight Nix and the Nothings, a garage/psyche/punk band from Bergen are playing . I look them up on Bandcamp and am immediately hooked. I don’t bother looking anywhere else.
I’m too early for the gig so stop off at a heavy rock pub (£9 a pint) on the way. A gang of girls see me on my own and invite me to go rowing with them tonight. I’m not sure if that is an euphemism or not – I suspect not – but politely decline. I then head up to Revolver, which it turns out is very close to the wrong hotel we first went to when we arrived. There’s a bar upstairs and John makes a point of saying hello. Apparently he runs a cocktail bar in town and he is out with Vlad, his Bulgarian cocktail waiter. I’m getting the vibe this is an incredibly friendly town, people go out of their way to engage with strangers. But I suppose that’s part of what makes Norway the sixth happiest country in the world.
It’s loud, so I don’t quite follow the conversation, but I leave them in peace as they start arguing about whether a Norwegian giant could take a Welsh dragon in a fight.
Down in the cellar of Revolver is a basement ‘toilet’ venue with a capacity of around a hundred I would guess. There’s a cracking PA and loads of local music lovers mingling. Amazingly they have bottles of Samuel Smiths cider (£10). The only other place I have seen this is in Ye Olde Murenger House in Newport.
First band on are PKP Oslo. I hadn’t looked these guys up in advance but they are great. Full on 60’s garage-psyche. After trying out various spots I plot myself up by the bar to the side of the stage and settle in for the night.
There’s not much of a change over time between bands and Nix and the Nothings are soon in full flow. They are epic. I had loved their stuff on Bandcamp, but as is often the way, live they were ten times better.
They are singing in Norwegian, so I don’t have a clue what they are singing about, but they have the crowd in the palm of their hands. We get the old classic of everyone get down on your knees and jump up when I say, and the lead singer decides to go crowd surfing at one point. A few songs later he hands his guitar to John the cocktail who manages to play along with the band for three or four minutes. I’m not sure if he knows the band but his bit was seamless with the set.
Kreshida, a fan of the band who had travelled down from Bergen strikes up a conversation with me between songs, excited by the fact that I had come from Wales and gone out of my way to see her friend’s band.
As I had split up from Megan and Becks, I had wondered if I would get bored on my own for four hours, but the combination of friendly people and truly amazing music meant the time flew by.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: there’s no need to be nostalgic about great music of the past. Contrary to popular belief there’s still loads of young people out there making amazing new music. And I love it. A fantastic way to end a brilliant day. I seriously doubt the football will be as much fun, but hey, you never know.