A love letter to the entire country of Norway

I probably won't send it though, it's too embarrassing.

Hi, everyone. After a combination of getting sick, losing luggage and surprise power outages last week well and truly derailed things, I’m happy to report that I’m back on track this week with a new post.

As usual, I have a few other posts and ideas I’m working on for the next month or so, but I may also be taking another one week break soon too to work on another project, which I’m hoping to be able to share the details of soon.

As always, thanks for reading and hope you enjoy.

Is it possible to deliver a love letter to a country? Is there a government department that handles that sort of thing?

Probably not, I'm assuming. Perhaps I could hand-deliver it to someone. Or dig a hole and bury it in the ground. All the positive vibes would return to the earth and maybe a tree would grow out of it. Sounds lovely.

Perhaps I would regret it. It would be too gushy.

Norway, I love everything about you. God why did I say that? I sound so desperate.

I can't help it though. Love makes you do crazy things.

Things like wanting to buy souvenirs. Something I’ve never had any desire to do. I actually thought at one point that I might like to buy something with a Norwegian flag on it.

Tragic. Who even am I?

Love really does make you do crazy things.

What's so surprising is that Norway really is exactly how you imagine it to be. Think of it now. Try and bring up a picture in your mind.

It's exactly like that, but better.

Looking out the window as the plane flew into Oslo airport, we passed green fields and endless pine trees all bunched up together like they were jostling for space in a mosh pit. They looked so soft from up high and I pictured myself crowd surfing over the tops of the trees. Rocking out to the sounds of birds and a nearby stream.

The stream sounds would make sense. There are so many waterfalls in Norway. So many rivers and streams. So many times when water was making its way down from a higher point, moving past you and carrying on with its business, providing a beautiful soundtrack in the process.

We caught the train and arrived in the little town we would be staying in for a month. It felt strangely familiar and reminded us of home, which later we found to be a combination of things. The nature, the small town vibe.

Electric cars creeped quietly around the streets. That's because everyone in Norway has electric cars. Sometimes they would give themselves away, tyres gently crunching over gravel behind you or off to the side. Our ears sharpened up and we tuned in to a soundscape below the normal noise of traffic. Trees rustling, geese honking overhead, tyres crunching.

Silence.

If all the electric cars made it feel like you had stepped into the future, the classic and charming Norwegian buildings pulled you back in time. The past meets the future. Red, yellow, and white wooden farmhouse-style buildings with pointed roofs and apple trees everywhere bursting with produce.

It all felt so balanced and carefully thought out. So considered.

We learned about many government initiatives in Norway that seemed so forward thinking and progressive. Free programs and services that helped immigrants settle into Norway, free equipment hire for locals (or a small donation for visitors) that made it easy to get out and enjoy nature, huge tax benefits for people who bought electric cars and so on and so on.

And having gotten used to dealing with relentless mosquitos all during summer across the Balkans, even that didn't seem to be a problem in Norway. I can only imagine any existing mosquitos had simply been re-skilled as part of some free government program and were happily employed in new sectors. Probably eco-related.

If Norway was a person it would be the best version of ourselves. The version of us that's achieved everything we've been striving for. How it would look if we were our perfect weight, had hit all our KPIs, written a book, started a charity, baked perfect cakes; a model citizen, family member and friend. Fully self-actualised.

Everything just worked and felt perfect in Norway.

Obviously nowhere is perfect. But Norway felt pretty close to it. And there weren't many red flags.

Aside from hunting whales, which is a big one (although Norway argues that they only hunt minke whales which are not endangered), the only other major flaw we could find during our time there was a fairly cavalier attitude towards wasps.

At a number of bakeries we visited in Norway, we often saw various baked treats in the display with several wasps crawling all over them. At a fun family sports event in the town we were staying in, setup in the town square were tables piled high with pastries and buns that were swarming with wasps. There were so many that if you weren't paying attention you might think vendors were offering up baskets of wasps to patrons.

No one seemed to be bothered by it. The wasps seemed to have free reign.

On another occasion we'd visited the bakery in town and were eyeing off a couple of traditional Norwegian pastries which again, happened to have several wasps crawling over them. And again, no one seemed bothered. Luckily the lady behind the counter picked the two at the back that were untainted, but I'd half expected her to ask: 'With or without wasps?' Maybe she would tweezer a few on for us.

Then, after sitting down at a table, one of the wasps decided to follow us back to our seats and proceeded to torment us for at least 5 or so minutes. Hovering and swooping down to our cinnamon and custard buns, pulling back, then darting around our heads, while we bobbed and waved our hands around.

It naturally drew some attention from some of the other customers and a couple of ladies at a nearby table, laughing at our plight, eventually called out to us: 'The more you wave your hands, the angrier it will get'. I wasn't sure what the lady thought we were doing but it was advice that seemed to suggest we might be the ones at fault. As if we had simply just been winding up the family dog and getting it too excited.

If a man had wandered into the bakery and begun attacking us and trying to swoop in for a bite of our custard bun, the most reasonable thing to do would not be to point out to the victims that they might consider not carrying on so much and making the man angry. What would happen most likely is that people would rally and help to shoo the man way. To help the victims and come to their rescue. To deal with the bully. Call the police if necessary and to send a clear message.

You simply cannot swoop in on a custard pastry that is not yours. I don’t care who you are.

I also wanted to point out to the lady that we weren't just playing a bit of rough and tumble with a wasp, and the reason for our behaviour was because our ideal scenario was to enjoy a custard bun without a wasp in our personal space; one of my favourite ways to eat a pastry.

The situation eventually seemed to resolve itself and the wasp disappeared. And thankfully we never had any more trouble during our time in Norway, but the whole incident would linger in our minds for a while afterwards as we consoled ourselves with our successfully unharmed pastries.

Much like a wasp on a custard bun, we were all over the nature while we were in Norway. It was why we had come and what Norway is famous for.

We went on many walks around our local lake. Tracks lined by forest that slowly changed colour during our time there, as we ventured further into autumn.

Green to gold.

We saw big brown slugs that looked like they might be wearing leather jumpsuits. Jittery red squirrels flitting about along tree branches. We walked slowly and stopped often to take in the surrounds and views over the lake. Sat on benches, leaned on farm gates. While over the other side, the trees jostled in their mosh pits, trying to get as close to the waters edge as they could.

Metro lines and bus routes took us to the outer edges of Oslo, sometimes dropping us right in the middle of thick forest. On one occasion on a hike through Østmarksetra forest, there was so much mist and fog that you could barely see ten metres in front of you. As we walked along trails into the forest, people would appear suddenly out of the fog, smiling and nodding as they went past. Norwegians go out in all conditions and this was a comforting sight.

The whole thing made for an eerie vibe though and with the layer of green moss over a lot of the forest floor, you could imagine how folklore about trolls might have come about.

After several hours of hiking, we arrived back at the station and the train sat waiting in the fog for us, like a spooky but very well maintained and efficient ghost train.

On a separate train journey back from Bergen, crossing from the west to the east of the country, we stared out the window and binge-watched the changing landscapes, which were highly dramatic. Lush green views gave way to sparse and rocky ones. The trees replaced with rocks and the green with a grey/brown and all of it dulled by the mist. Even the bleakness was beautiful though. Waterfalls and streams still ever present, darting downwards everywhere.

One day we'd driven out to Sognefjord from Bergen and saw countless houses set amongst trees and mountains and almost always by a river. Many sat on their own in the most beautiful location you can imagine. An ideal place if you've ever fantasised about living the life of a solitary writer, or artist.

I found myself briefly imagining living in one of these houses in that setting by myself, and how lonely that would be. How this is often the problem with fantasies like this. That it stems from wanting to cut off from the things that can make life complicated and difficult - like people, or the internet, or choosing to purchase and consume a custard bun - all things that can also make us happy. To understand both these truths, I think, is to find some sort of inner peace. That this is the nature of living. To be able to open yourself up to what might hurt you so that you can allow the beautiful things in too. 

One of the most surprising things we learnt was that Norway has one of the highest rates of depression in the world and is one of the few countries to have appointed a Minister of Loneliness. This is not a problem unique to Norway though. We’re all living in our own cottages by the river to some extent. Far too cut off.

Back on the train, KB and I sat across the aisle from a man who, based on how he was dressed, couldn't have been anything other than a writer. A tall, elderly man dressed in a navy turtleneck sweater and blazer, and who wrote in a notebook for most of the 7 hour journey, peering over his spectacles as he did so. Sometimes he would gaze out the window. I wondered what he was writing about? Probably nothing silly like love letters to countries or wasps I'm assuming. Something more dignified. More high-brow. Something that fashionable, turtleneck sweater wearers would write about.

I wondered where he was headed? Back to his house by the river on his own? He seemed ok though. In fact, he'd spent the first hour of the train journey chatting to his new friend next to him. Some socialising, some writing. A nice balance.

We truly fell in love with Norway. A dream place that lived up to all expectations. An experience that might encourage you to reflect on your time and then decide to write a post about it using a love letter as a gimmick for that post. Pathetic.

And aside from one weekend trip to the west coast, we spent our whole time in a small town outside of Oslo. Exploring our surrounds, the nature on our doorstep. Looking out through the window of our apartment at all the green.

It was spilling out everywhere.

Before we went, one of the pieces of advice I heard about visiting Norway was that you didn't need to travel the whole country to say that you've seen it, because the best of Norway, the nature that is, is everywhere. This eliminates the fear of missing out because wherever you are is enough. Where you are is Norway.

And this idea frees you up to spend more time in one place. It allows you to go deep, rather than skimming across the surface.

It’s one of my favourite things about travel; to experience tiny worlds for a short period of time. To have a local shop or cafe. Find secret paths and shortcuts. Truly get a sense of place and feel it deeply.

When I was young I was desperate to get out and see the world. Why would I stay here, I thought, in my hometown, when I could go anywhere? Of all the places in the world to choose from, how to choose one?

But then you realise that the world is just made up of local cafes and neighbourhoods, and towns and bigger towns and cities, and secret paths and shortcuts. And to try and see and experience the whole world is not to see it but to skim across the surface.

Eventually you have to choose somewhere. To create your own little world within a world. To go deep.

And if you decide you'd like to occupy another little world for a short time, I would highly recommend Norway.

Because, if you’re reading this Norway, I love everything about you.

Except the wasps.

xxoo