Liverpool isn’t that long a train ride from Sheffield at all, so this airport will have to be included on the list of appropriate travel resources from now on. I started off Saturday morning, not too early, and had no problem with any connections. I had eventually decided on taking the large backpack as it is still impossible to carry any liquids – which even includes powdery makeup – in the hand luggage. Ryanair charge you £7 for checking any luggage, so that’s a really annoying rip-off. What else would one possibly want to take on a trip but liquids?! Shampoo, creme etc?
My flight was only slightly delayed and I arrived in the tiny Torp airport almost on time. The connecting airbus to Oslo waits for the Ryanair arrivals so there wasn’t any problem in bridging the 110km to the city.
They really have lots of forests in Norway – with large trees! From the plane I could see a bit of the elaborate coastline, and zillions of rocky islands with forest on them and max. 1-2 wooden houses. Most of the tiny islands had no roads. I was pondering this fact until I realised that the preferred mode of transport in the area obviously were boats! Imagine going shopping once a month or so – taking the boat! Apart from the „densely“ populated capital, Norway must be an „empty“ country. I was wondering what to expect from its gay scene. With a population of less than 2 million there couldn’t be that many gay people around, right?
When I arrived in town it was still light and I walked across the city to the hotel. Oslo is much more „industrial“ than I imagined, even though I wasn’t quite sure what I imagined anyway. Figure being in Oslo! In Norway! At the age of 15 or so – at the height of my short-lived but intense A-Ha fandom – it was my Mecca! And now I was finally there, because George was Djing for 2 hours!
I was the first to arrive at the hotel; Kristine was yet to land, and Susan was sadly not coming after all. On my way I had walked by the Latter comedy club that supposedly was to be the venue for the night, but absolutely no signs signalled any gay disco event at the place. In a supermarket I bought a pound of fish dumplings which I greedily devoured, feeling guilty about the 8% fat content, and then spent an hour or so on the hotel room building up nervousness until Kristine’s arrival.
I did my hair and it turned out nicely for the first time in days since I last had it cut. Kristine arrived around 9:30 and we got ready and marched straight to the club which was only a couple of meters across in Aker Brygge. It was definitely the right venue, but did neither look particularly gay, nor was there any mention of George. But we felt too embarrassed to ask, and too scared that the answer might be „no“. The atmosphere changed a while later when the local gay community arrived. Everybody spoke perfect English which I had expected but still found very astonishing. We were warmly introduced by a lively blond girl who knocked back one large gin&tonic after the other, and there was the usual crew of skinny makeup-wearing goth boys, hip alternative guys and screaming, drugged-up transsexuals. Virtually everybody arriving on the scene greeted us with kisses and immediately included us in their conversations. So much for Nordic reservation!
The dance floor was on the second level of the place with the DJ booth another level up and the bar & seating area on the lower floor. The rail around the dance „balcony“ was scarily low, and in my mind I kept seeing dreadful scenes of drunken punters falling down and crushing the crowds underneath... At one point I went downstairs to the bar to get a drink when somebody emptied a full pint of lager onto my head! It was a perfect hit, and I was completely drenched in beer! The helpful club photographer eagerly took a picture of me trying to get the foam off my dripping hair! So much for that „perfect“ hairdo! I found it highly ironic. They didn’t have any hand dryers in the toilets so I could only wipe my hair with paper towels and wait for it to dry and hope for it to regain some sort of beer-sticky volume. Most people didn’t even take notice of my wet-poodle look because they were already quite drunk.
At around one I took a look down the balcony just in time to see George and entourage enter the club. I resisted an urge to pour a pint of lager onto Frank’s head when he passed underneath us. He didn’t stand out at all in Norway. Most of the men looked very much like him! They disappeared down the stairs for quite a while which Kristine found rather suspicious.
When George came on he was seemingly in a good mood. He saw us straight away and kept laughing and mouthing „you’re mad!“ at Kristine, which is of course true. He waved at me as well, but I’m never sure if he really means me. Kristine is the centre of his attention for all that I know, and because I’m usually standing so close to her I can never be sure who he’s actually looking at. I’m also totally crap with the „attentive fan“ behaviour, always trying to look deliberately casual or distracted...
He played a long set – 3 hours – whilst the crowds got more and more pissed and sweaty around us, bouncing into us more frequently the more the alcohol or other substances kicked in. I tool a few bad pictures and two tiny movies which should be efficient as proof. Later as we stood in front of the club waiting in vain for another appearance I confessed to Kristine that it almost seemed to me that I’m not going to DJ gigs anymore in order to see George, but for him to see me! Am I enjoying the gigs? They are far too stressful! LOL
After Kristine has her ice-cold coke we returned to the hotel and I fell asleep quickly. Kristine had to leave before 9 the next morning so I only got 3 hours of sleep anyway. I got ready after she left and sampled the Scandinavian breakfast buffet that surprisingly was included in our hotel price. They had all kinds of strange foods including many fish dishes. There was also a huge cylinder of caramel-coloured paste which I suspected to be the legendary „brown cheese“ – a sort of high-energy food made of concentrated milk. I shaved off a paper-thin slice with the special hovel and tried it on a piece of bread. I tasted very much like a mild cross between caramel and marmite!
After breakfast I packed and got ready to check out when I received a cryptic text from Kristine from which I could gather that the bitch had just met George at the airport! During the day it transpired from further texts that in the „4 seconds“ that they talked she managed to get invited to this week’s B-Rude show and had already booked another flight to London! The third in 3 weeks! Officially mad. But am I bovvered?! LOL I’ll be in Carlisle with Stephen. Does this face look bovvered?!
After dropping my luggage off at the hostel I spent the day checking out Oslo’s art museum and eating unusually many snacks. I was constantly hungry and even ate chocolate bars! The museums were very good though and I spent a large sum on art books, post cards and even a poster from the Nationalgalleriet. I vowed to myself to do more art myself and to just get started and do something instead of procrastinating for ages and never actually painting anything, The art book I bought was on Jenny Holzer of course. It includes an essay on the use of „text in art“ which was the topic of my oral art history exams in my graphic design exams. It mentions exactly the same artist that I talked about at the time, Dad, etc., even the „use of random paper clippings“ in paintings. That’s just the article that I was looking for at the tine to prepare my dissertation, but which obviously wasn’t around because if it had been I could have simply copied it and would subsequently have failed my exams. I remember Dr. Bohnen was impressed with my presentation gave me the top score of 15 points. But then again he was also very much impressed with my surname which caused him endless fun and drug-related allusions. Anyway, I should maybe remember to go back to my „roots“...
In the evening I went out for a meal in a cosy Norwegian restaurant in Aker Brygge. I ordered a horse mussel starter and whale steak with cabbage and fried onions. When I tucked in to the whale meat it suddenly struck me that this would be highly objectionable to some – isn’t whale hunting why some Greenpeace activists chain themselves to fishing boats or something? Ooops.... The whale tasted much like beef, with a consistency that reminded me a bit of liver. Not a very strong taste. More like diluted cow. Thinking about it, a whale is nothing else but a very large cow anyway.
The hostel was the usual six-bed affair that made me again wonder why I am still doing this to myself. I am clearly not a dorm type and by far too old to find any enjoyment in the experience, It’s not even the young people that piss me off – it’s usually the older, clearly demented type. This time there was this Polish woman who talked incessantly. She was 37 but looked younger. When I remarked that she must „lead a healthy life“ she agreed and went on detailing her intake of fish oils and her exercise routines. All day it was just one long, loud questioning session. „Where are you from? How is the climate in your home town? Do you know where I can buy bananas? What’s the name of the shop? Do you believe it’s faith that brought you together with your boyfriend?“ „Boys“ was her topic of the day. I couldn’t fail to hear that she had recently gotten together with this Kosovo Albanian who phoned her and then didn’t phone her and then phoned her .... It turned out that one of the other room maters had been with a Kosovo Albanian herself for 5 years, but that man had only used her to try to get a Norwegian passport and actually had a wife and kids in Kosovo who he planned to bring into Europe once legalised. I learned a lot about Albanian men and that they only marry amongst themselves and don’t respect women. Makes me wonder... The conversation carried on loudly and agitatedly even after everybody else had settled for sleep. And of course it’s always those noisy one that then snore loudly all night.
On Monday I walked around more or less aimlessly because all museums were closed, including the Nobel Peace Centre. I caught the shuttle back to Torp and spent the rest of my Kroner on sweets. I got back to Sheffield in good time and spent the rest of the day trying to catch up with my email. Judy has been suspended again, and the last video (allegedly „the best ever“) had only been online for 10 mins! Luckily we still caught it – thanks to the world-wide downloading and screenshotting support network! LOL
After the light resfreshment...
At the hotel
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