Crossing Paths in Oslo
It’s all about the locals
After the long flight from California, I arrived in Oslo looking for refreshment. Ale was found at Cafe Håpløs on Øvre Slottsgate and as I sat at the bar I pondered the spelling and pronunciation of Håpløs. Using what I had studied about Norwegian in the weeks before I was able to sound out the Nordic characters and had a good laugh once I understood the cognate. It was quite far from my state of mind but I appreciated the dark humor.
I asked if they serve food, no, but there is a 7-Eleven one block away on Grenson with sandwiches to go. Hmm, not what I had in mind but hunger got the better of me and I took the short walk to a rather small 7-Eleven. It was not what I expected, no ancient greasy hot dogs rotating under heat lamps, instead, there was actual food in the refrigerator case including paper-wrapped “pakken” sandwiches.
I returned to the nearly deserted cafe and sit at the bar, making light conversation with my bartender. He asked if I like Jazz, and hearing my agreement, says I should go to Herr Nilson (named after Pippi Longstocking’s monkey) on Wednesday for open mike night. Perfect timing, as I would be returning to Olso from Bergen on Tuesday.
