Blonds, fjords, royals, lilacs, swans, Gypsies, 7-Elevens . . .
For me, Scandinavia starts in the departure lounge — before you ever leave for Norway (or Denmark or Sweden). You see all these Scandinavian-looking people, gathered in one place — at JFK or O’Hare or wherever. After a second, you realize, “Ah, they’re going home.” It is a sea of blondness.
• A Norwegian told me some years ago, “Young people here dye their hair dark, just to rebel a little. Just to be different.” There is so much blond. Elsewhere, of course, dark-haired people dye their hair blond. The grass always looks greener . . .
• Just about the first person I see, in the Oslo airport, is a policewoman (blond). I think, “If she were an American, she might well be in TV commercials, not on the police force.” Beautiful woman, this cop.
• So, what is Scandinavia to you? I’ve said Denmark, Norway, and Sweden (going from west to east). That is the classic definition. But some people like to throw in Finland and Iceland. When I’m referring to all those countries, I use the word “Nordic.”
You can do whatever you want, needless to say . . .
• Walking around Oslo, I am flooded with memories. I have been to this city often, for different purposes. What is it about place — a specific place, even a street corner — and memory? Those memories would never come to me. But the places awaken them, pronto.
• Looking at the statues of prominent statesmen — of course they were prominent; otherwise, there would not be statues of them — I think, “I once knew these birds. They meant something to me.” That’s because I wrote a history of the Nobel Peace Prize, which is a Norwegian gift, or decision, reflecting the political culture of Norway.
• See this pretty building? It is the Nobel Peace Center, in an old train station.
• I’ll tell you what’s new, or new to me: e-scooters. Menacing, demonic little things. Like to scare the hell out of me.
• You know what else is new, or relatively new, I think? Gypsies, runnin’ their racket — just as they do in cities throughout Europe. I have described this phenomenon in various journals and other pieces for many years. I have nothing more to say on the subject. But I think — what a tragedy, and what an outrage. Generation after generation, trapped in this rotten, degrading way of life.
• “That woman looks like Liv Ullmann,” I think. And then, a bit later: “That woman looks like Liv Ullman.” I have to laugh at myself: “Of course they look like Liv Ullmann. We’re in Norway.”
• One of my favorite sculptures, anywhere, is the one pictured below: the Gledessprederen, or Joy-spreader (as I understand it). A justified name. A marvelous spirit, this sculpture evinces.
• Well, Harald V may think he’s the king in these parts. But we know who the real king is . . .
• The façade of the National Theater pays tribute to the Big Three of Norwegian literature: Holberg, Ibsen, and Bjørnson. (I have gone in chronological order. The building puts Holberg in the middle, however.) (Frankly, Ibsen and Bjørnson are about tied in age.)
• Outside the Storting, the Norwegian parliament, a protest in solidarity with Ukraine:
• The Storting again, getting some late-afternoon — or late-evening — sun. Nice, huh? (It’s staying light till about 10 o’clock here in Oslo.)
• Hard by Oslo Fjord, a horse I haven’t met before.
• This one is new to me too. No rider. We’ve had a nice visit.
• Who’s this lady, relaxing on the palace grounds? The Queen, Sonja (born a commoner). (This was a real love-match.)
• And who’s this lady? Princess Märtha of Sweden, mother of Harald V.
• A marina, one of many:
• A fella gassin’ up:
• Have some yellow:
• Have a little more, plus purple:
• I have said “purple.” But more like red-pink-purple?
• A girl and her swan:
• Make way for ducklings:
• Slowly, I’m learning the strange Norwegian folkways:
(That was a joke.) (Amazingly happy scene, though, right?)
• A very Oslo-y shot:
• More spring blooms:
• This is one of my favorite Lincoln memorials in all the world. It was presented to Norway by the people of North Dakota on the Fourth of July in 1914 (a week after the world war began). (North Dakota was full of Norwegians.) The plaque at the right quotes the Gettysburg Address: “government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth.”
• Okay, this is a wider scene — with the lilac bush. You can’t help thinking of Whitman’s poem, his elegy to Lincoln: “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d.”
• Lilac City, baby:
• Just a lazy stream:
• Pretty loud. The birds have to pipe up, just to make themselves heard:
• Modest falls:
• They make a little noise, too:
• I’ve known this little kid for years and years. He’s never happy.
• They are striking, these sculptures by Gustav Vigeland:
• Gonna lay some more blooms on you — just ’cause I like ’em. These little blue jobbies:
• Care to see a landing in the Grand Hotel? Very Norwegian, in every respect.
• I like this variation on a raunchy phrase:
• This is one of my favorite signs, anywhere. (It’s a clock too, to be sure.) (Freia makes chocolate.)
• Paying my respects to Kirsten Flagstad, the great Norwegian soprano, outside the opera house. (Norway has another great Wagnerian soprano as we speak: Lise Davidsen.)
• You can walk up onto the roof of the opera house. Here is a shot from the roof, taken at about 9:30 p.m.:
• Speaking of music — Steinway gets around:
# Still on music, here’s a bust of Mariss Jansons, the late, great conductor, in the Oslo Concert Hall. He put the Oslo Philharmonic on the map, really. (For my tribute to Jansons, published in National Review at the beginning of 2020, go here.)
• Kind of a cool name for a store:
• What the . . .?
• There are two repetitions in Norwegian I like very much. You can say “Hei,” for “Hi.” But you can also say “Hei hei.” You can say “Takk,” for “Thank you.” But you can also say “Takk takk.”
I think of a phrase I associate with Jimmy Durante. There are several variations. But what I remember is, “New York, New York: The town so nice, you got to say it twice.”
• People in Norway are very nice, in my experience. A magazine editor tells me, “You know, we’re such a small country.” (That is, the population is very small. The territory is vast.) “Everyone knows each other. You can’t really be an a-hole. I mean, you can, but it tends to backfire and isolate a person. We’re a society that values comity, compromise, and coalition-building.”
Makes sense.
• I’m amazed at how good a simple sandwich is — the kind of sandwich you can pick up at a convenience store. An excellent, fresh, seeded roll. Good, real cheese. Good, real ham (let’s say). How come I can’t pick up these puppies in my haunts back home?
Burns me.
• Where I come from, 7-Elevens tend to be grungy. Not very pleasant. Not very appealing. Here, however, they are orderly, inviting, and sharp. So Norwegian. You can eat very well in a Norwegian 7-Eleven, let me tell you. (I’ve had the same experience in the Far East — Japan and Taiwan.)
• On the subject of food: It ain’t a 7-Eleven, but, ladies and gentlemen, if you ever have a chance to breakfast at the Grand Hotel, in the heart of Oslo, please do. Treat yourself to it. This is one of the most civilized rooms in the world. The breakfast buffets (yes, plural, for sure) are bounteous, varied, and endless. The surroundings are elegant — Old World. The staff exudes professional refinement.
The only problem, as I see it, or hear it, is music. Recently, I believe, they have started piping music in. Why? It isn’t very loud, as these things go, but still: Why? What’s wrong with the sounds of breakfast and conversation? Or even the sound of silence? I don’t dislike music. But everything has its time and place. Can’t there be a restaurant, a store, a public place, anywhere in the world, without music piped in? For one thing, this stupid ubiquity — this wallpaper — cheapens music.
• Any more harrumphs from me, before I go? Yeah, maybe. Many people in America regard Norway as a wussy little socialist state. (They are misinformed.) Yet Norwegians are doing zilch about Covid, as far as I can tell. No masks. No proof of vaccination. No social distancing. I’m not saying this is right or wrong — just reporting.
Coming from the United States, you can pretty much waltz into Norway. But going in the other direction? You need a Covid test. You have to present your proof of vaccination. You have to fill out a health form — ten bucks. There is rigmarole.
Okay, I’ll stifle the harrumphs, and I wish you the pleasantest of weekends. Thank you for joining me.
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