May 23: A day in transit & The Island of Moss (Norway)
Frantic packing, frantic organising and a
hurried breakfast preceded a very brisk walk to Buchanan Bus Station. Going via the post office, we sent off some
OS maps to Craig, feeling he would make better use of them than we would. I also sent him my book of Scottish folklore,
filled with pressed flowers because I worried they wouldn’t be let into
Australia.
In typical Scottish fashion, it was the first day above 10 degrees since we arrived, and we were sweating under our bags and coats and miscellanea. We jumped on a bus, said goodbye to Glasgow and arrived at the departure desk at Edinburgh within the hour.
We’d been worrying about getting all our VAT back, but quickly found there was nothing to worry about and they didn’t need to see our meticulously packed luggage. Nicholas organised all the forms (doing what he does best) and I caught up on people watching.
The flight to Oslo was shorter than flights from Melbourne to Brisbane, and we were hardly in the air before the stewardesses started bringing around on-board snacks. I’m almost certain they were still finishing the rounds when the pilot told us we were about to descend for landing. I could see the peaks of snow-capped mountains above the cloud cover, but it didn’t look like anybody was climbing them.
Arriving in Oslo, we were quickly checked over by customs and sent on our way. Stig, our host for our stay in Moss, was waiting to greet us, looking jovial (and distinctly Santa-like) with his white beard. He and his wife drove us from the airport, giving us a guided tour of Moss, which is a beautiful little town 40 minutes from Oslo. They drove us past the bays and beaches, where people were barbecuing and settling in for a magical sunset, and up to their fantastic home, perched atop the hill. We were staying in the whimsical-looking monochrome annex just below their house, which gave sweeping views o the sea and surrounding foliage. They gave us hot boller buns, which weren’t dissimilar to Easter hot cross buns and showed us their electric toilet.
Apparently, everything in Norway is electric. When you use the toilet – and I tell you this because it’s so novel – you place a piece of paper in the metal (waterless) bowl, do your business into the paper, then close the lid and press the START button. This opens the bowl, sucks the filled paper down, and incinerates it.
“No waste!” said Stig excitedly, as Heidi showed us the toilet.
We chatted to the pair for a while about art and Oslo and languages. They both had excellent English, but made me smile when Stig referred to superior technology as “brain breaking” (I think he meant groundbreaking) and described Australians as an “omelet” because we were such a blend of cultures.
Apparently, everything in Norway is electric. When you use the toilet – and I tell you this because it’s so novel – you place a piece of paper in the metal (waterless) bowl, do your business into the paper, then close the lid and press the START button. This opens the bowl, sucks the filled paper down, and incinerates it.
“No waste!” said Stig excitedly, as Heidi showed us the toilet.
We chatted to the pair for a while about art and Oslo and languages. They both had excellent English, but made me smile when Stig referred to superior technology as “brain breaking” (I think he meant groundbreaking) and described Australians as an “omelet” because we were such a blend of cultures.
The grocery stores had shut early because it was a holiday weekend, so we couldn’t pick up any groceries for dinner. We weren’t too fazed, because we had some soups we’d brought with us from Scotland in our bags. Half an hour later, Stig came running down to us with a plate full of food, apologizing that the stores were shut. He handed us a plate of Moose Cakes – rissoles made of moose – and some homemade bread. We thanked him profusely, and Nicholas assured him that, while I was vegetarian, he was not. Nicholas hasn’t eaten meat in a year or so, so it wasn’t quick to go down. He said it tasted a bit like beef.
It was 8 o’clock but it didn’t look like the sun was setting any time soon, so we pulled on our cold weather gear and head down to the beach to watch the sunset. On our way, we made friends with a furry black and white cat (he reminded me of Puck, naturally) and he was quick to befriend us again on our way home an hour later. His human was just pulling up as we walked past, and I was a bit embarrassed to be caught with her cat in my hands.
We head up the hill to our beautiful little
annex just after 11pm to repack our bags and get our things organised to take
to Oslo. It was almost 1am when we
settled into the folded out daybed and looked outside the windows. A dull blue light was still streaming through
the windows, giving the illusion that dawn was breaking outside. I read not two pages of my book, and fell
asleep.
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