A Scandinavian Christmas

I was only back at work a week or so before my Scandinavian adventure continued – I was off to visit my friend Julia in Oslo and we were going to go together to Lillehammer for Christmas, along with her flatmate Sebastien, a Parisian also stranded in Norway for the festive season. I met a Norwegian at the Ryanair terminal that had to show me his passport to prove his nationality; he had one of the thickest north Dublin accents I’ve heard in a long time. Jules met me at the central bus station in Oslo, it was really good to see her again even though we’d just seen each other a little over a month ago. We caught up on all the goss on our way back home and she pointed out some Oslo sights in the dark. When we got back to her place I met Sebastien and we got ready for bed, helped Sebastien pack (boys are completely inept at this, they just stare helplessly at empty suitcases, then look up at you with a plaintive, querulous expression and ask, “What should I bring?”). Next morning we were up bright and early to catch the train to Lillehammer (which we almost missed) and then spent the next few hours reading (me a lovely book, the other two were studying for upcoming exams, yuk). Once in Lillehammer we checked in to our hostel and then had a quick squiz around “town” before it got dark, it was really small, cute and Scandinavian. We found out, to our horror, that it had been the warmest winter in Lillehammer for about fifty years, and thus there was very little snow and most of the activities we were planning to do were cancelled. No husky sledding, no deer spotting, nothing but skiing which I’ve hated ever since my parents used to drag me every year. We went to a deserted Olympic museum which was kind of interesting – the best part was the pretend winners’ podium that the three of us took our pictures on. Then we played in the snow (Seb had a very strong penchant for snowballing us and shoving snow down our tops and jeans) and took pictures of the gorgeous sunset. For some reason they are all beautiful in Norway. I don’t understand it – the sun sets the exact same way all over the world, but in some places the sunsets are unremarkable and in others they are stunning. Must be some sort of atmospherical thing.

Next day was Christmas – well it was for Seb and I, the Latins in the group, but for Jules it was just plain old Christmas Eve. The plan had been to get up and go skiing, but as the other two didn’t seem to be stirring despite the alarm clock I took advantage of their torpor and pretended to be similarly dozing so I could enjoy a delicious lie in. I didn’t have the remotest interest in a) skiing or b) getting out of bed so it turned out perfect for me.

When we’d eventually left our peaceful slumber we decided that we’d have Christmas dinner that night and go skiing the next day before heading back to Oslo. Jules and Seb went to a service in Norwegian (church being boring at the best of times, I don’t know how they kept their eyes open not understanding a word) and I went for a walk next to the enormous, magnificent and frozen lake in the twilight. The vistas were absolutely gorgeous, the wintry whites and blues and navies contrasting with the oranges, reds and yellows of the setting sun. As I was making my way back to the hostel I ran into the other two coming back from the church and we headed back to start working on our Christmas dinner – nay, feast. In true Christmas tradition we were going to stuff ourselves fuller than the sacrificial turkey. For starters caviar and salmon canapés, followed by roast chicken and vegies, then home made apple pie, rounded off by Christmas pudding (at Jules’s insistence that it just wouldn’t be Christmas without it). To make our Christmas a little more Scandinavian (and a little more jolly all around) we also made gløg, a Scandinavian mulled wine concoction that you make using wine and syrup you buy in the supermarket. Alcohol is hideously expensive in Norway, the cheapest bottle is probably around 50 Australian dollars so luckily I had brought some from Dublin. Actually I was being even more cheapskate than appears as I hadn’t even bought it – it was a bottle of red given W5 by a supplier as a Christmas gift! But it was Wolf Blass so at least it was drinkable.

What with all the food and gløg we had a very festive and fun Christmas, albeit in a tiny hostel in Lillehammer far away from friends and loved ones. Well, far away from most of our friends anyway! Jules and Seb exchanged gifts and they even brought some for me (thanks guys!). Seb gave me a little deer wearing a shirt with the Norwegian flag on it whom I dubbed Norge, and Jules gave me a present of weird and fascinating chocolate covered corn chips (Norwegians are weird in more ways than you can imagine) and a book, “The Kite Runner”, which I can now highly recommend. Fabulous, moving and inspiring book, but make sure you have a box of tissues handy. If you’re sensitive, better buy two boxes.

We revelled for a bit and went to bed as the other two were planning on skiing the next day. Jules was torn between two equally horrible prospects in the world of Julia: Not doing anything Christmassy on Christmas day or going on a holiday without doing an activity of some sort. In the end she figured she’d paid her homage to Christmas on Christmas Eve (just getting into the European swing of things surely) so skiing on Christmas Day won in the end. We travelled up to the ski field and the other two got kitted out and headed for the slopes. I did what I always do when others choose to ski – sit in the resort café and read a book. I was reading “100 years of solitude” which I kind of enjoyed but, well, it just wasn’t as great as everyone makes out. To be fair, I was reading it in English, so I am reserving judgement until my Spanish is good enough to read the original. Plus loads of books I love now I was indifferent to the first time I read them – “The Collector”, “Pride and Prejudice”, “A Cage of Butterflies” to name just a few. The latter I had to read three or four times before I liked it. Now that I think about it I don’t quite remember what made me read a book I didn’t like four times, but I imagine the intense boredom of the summer holidays in my school days may have had something to do with it. It was kind of a hard book to understand, lots of stuff about thought and the way minds work, and lots of jumping around in time from the future to the present, but by the time we were tested on it in class I’d read it at least five times and knew the thing forwards, backwards, inside out and back to front. I was the only one in my class to score A+! I pretended the high score was due to my natural intelligence and insight and tried not to reveal the truth that really I’m just a big dork.

Anyway I stayed in the warm with my book and caffeine until the other two came back, then the three of us went wandering in the snow; it didn’t take long for Seb to find a lovely powdery incline, some plastic supermarket bags, and soon the three of us were racing down the mountains on our makeshift sleds, trying not to get our bums too wet. Later back for more coffee when we realised we were about to miss the last bus back to Lillehammer – miss that and no train to Oslo, and no train meant no plane to Dublin for me the next day! We made the bus though, got back to the hostel, said goodbye to the manic-depressive-bipolar-schizophrenic creep of a hostel owner (that’s a whole other story) and headed for the bus station. The other two studied while we waited for the train (I know!!) while I continued with “100 Years of Solitude”. Back in Oslo and we were all pretty exhausted so off we went to bed pretty early.

Next morning off to the bus station where I said goodbye to Jules for the third time in about a year and a half. I think she’s the only person from back home I’ve seen since I left and I’ve seen her three times! Goes to show what a traveller she is! Good to know I’ve got another intrepid gadabout to keep me company. Goodonya Jules! Three hours from the centre of Oslo to Torp airport. Even after four days or so in Norway I still didn’t have any kroner (Jules had been acting ATM/Exchange Bureau for my visit, thanks again Jules!) and the airport snubbed my Euro, so it was a looong wait to get on the plane for something to eat! Moreover I had the misfortune of finishing my book about 10 minutes after I’d checked in, and my iPod batteries were dead...Deprived of music, food, reading material and shopping opportunities and lacking the energy to come up with an interesting daydream left precious little to fill the time before takeoff. Time passes however, regardless of whether or not it has been wasted, and eventually I was on the plane back to Dubh Linn.

What a relief to be home! Don’t get me wrong, I’m not sick of travelling, but after working non stop since March, then traipsing around Spain and Italy, more work, Copenhagen, work again, then Oslo and Lillehammer, I was exhausted and on the verge of illness. Thankfully, my weary head knew that ahead of me lay six days of blissful emptiness. Shelly was in China and Laura in Spain so I had the apartment to myself, I had absolutely nothing planned, and was looking forward to slobbing out on the couch for days on end. And that’s exactly what I did. Lots of watching films, cooking delicious meals and baking muffins, walking in the glorious sunshine...ok, I made up that last bit. Walking in the bitter winter cold. Well, ok, not so much walking as furtively foraying to Tesco to forage for food (woah, alliteration-mania!). Didn’t see hide nor hair of anyone until NYE, which gave me some precious and sorely needed solitude. I think I must agree with Stephanie Dowrick when she says, “If I had to choose between a life of only solitude or a life in which no solitude was possible, I would be hard pressed not to choose solitude”. Not that I don’t love being around people, I do. But when there are people around you’re constantly reacting to stimulus, mostly willingly, sometimes perforce, but either way your mind is engaged with the others around you. It’s only when you get some time alone that you can really reflect on what is happening to you, or, more accurately, what you are doing. What you like and don’t like, what you will change in the future, what you enjoyed. Why you did this or that thing. During those days I came up with some ideas for how I would try and live 2007 – the main objective I decided would be to be more honest in every aspect of my life. Dedicate myself to being as true as possible. I know for this I will need courage, more than I have used before and possibly more than I have. To face and deal with the truth is often much harder than lying to yourself and others. But in the end it is always, always worth it, because a troubled conscience constricts like chains, but living with integrity rids you of this shadow and leaves you free to live a happy life. Of course I don’t strive for perfection; the hope that I might never tell another lie is itself a false one. But I hope that with each experience, each fork in the road, each decision between truth and falsehood, it becomes easier to grasp the courage to walk the path of truth, although it looks darker, longer, and harder going.

Wonderful, Wonderful Copenhagen (again)

Another few weeks of work later, and my next adventure was coming around the corner. Our company likes to take us (if we’ve been good little worker bunnies) on a Christmas trip each year and this year our destination was “Wonderful, Wonderful Copenhagen” (that song must have been before my time, I certainly don’t remember it). I’ve been to Copenhagen before and initially that annoyed me a little bit; it would have been great to see a new city. But in the end I was glad as we didn’t do very much sightseeing and I might have been disappointed to spend a weekend in a new place and not really see it! We left on the Friday morning – I found everyone at the check in desk when I arrived at the airport and it was funny to see everyone in jeans and casuals after I’d seen them 40 hours a week for a year in suits and ties etc. Lots of idle chatter as we waited out the security queue (they’ve gotten a lot better recently but Dublin airport security can often be a very long-winded nightmare), and then the plane. I spent the time reading (“The Edge of Reason”, for about the zillionth time, but on a plane you need reading material you don’t really need to concentrate on). When we finally arrived in Lovely, Lovely Copenhagen it was Bloody, Bloody Raining (not surprising really). We were picked up at the airport and driven to our hotel to check in. The hotel had messed up our booking (despite the fact we had printed booking confirmations, and had rung up twice to confirm everything was ok). We sat in the bar and had something to eat and drink while they sorted us out, and eventually the (totally cute) receptionist told us it had been sorted and that everything we ate and drank was on them. Hurrah! Up to our rooms which were great. When I booked them (back in my Genesis PA days) I had requested rooms with a view of the Tivoli gardens (a kind of old-school theme park in the centre of Copenhagen). They gave me the standard line, “we’ll do what we can but we can’t guarantee anything”, which usually means “Haha. No.”. But to my utter surprise and amazement, they came through and we had totally stunning views of Copenhagen (including Tivoli) from our rooms. The hotel had a 60s motif which I totally loved – I felt like I was in an episode of Remington Steele with all the pastel backlighting and old school ice buckets and retro architecture. Not to mention the world’s most comfy beds! With warm and comfy duvets. Hurrah for Radisson SAS!

First night we went out for dinner to one of those cool, funky avant garde restaurants (we have some foodies in amongst our directors). We ended up going for the “Surprise Menu”, which is totally up my alley as I love surprises and trying new things. A food adventure in seven (yes seven) courses. We also ordered the accompanying “Surprise Wine Menu”, a different one for each course. The waiters were great and introduced each of the courses, and the sommelier was really funny and answered all of Roddy’s impertinent questions with good humour (atypical for the Danes, to be honest!). We ate lots of strange things like yummy crackly bread, crispy spaghetti and tomato sauce, spiced deer and avocado drops, but the best dish (unanimously) was the “cloud” thing – some kind of coconut flavoured dry ice concoction that came to the table steaming (well not really, but giving off that dry ice vapour) and sublimed when you put it in your mouth, so you had the totally weird sensation of it disappearing inside your mouth, and then you blew vapour out of your nose and mouth, dragon style. Totally cool. My colleagues are totally fun to be around, and we entertained ourselves and had a great time all night. After the restaurant (we were some of the last to leave, after all the food, the wine, the post-meal brandy, etc) back to the hotel bar for a cocktail (unbelievable but true – I drank a gin martini and really felt myself back in the 60s) and then up to our rooms to bed. It had been a long day and we still had Saturday and Sunday to go!

Saturday was another grey day, we got up somewhat early and after a yummy buffet breakfast did a very short bus tour of Copenhagen, and then got off to do what most people were wanting to do, shopping! We walked up and down the Strøget, which is the main shopping street in Copenhagen, and is also a pedestrian street. Everything felt much too expensive (and that’s pretty scary if you’re comparing to Dublin prices!) but eventually later I stumbled across a shop selling artistic prints. I had dearly wanted to buy some at the galleries in Spain, but I didn’t find anything suitable (the selection was parlous) but here was an entire shop full! After lots of browsing I finally selected one Miró and one Kandinsky which I really love. I had wanted to buy something of Egon Schiele’s, but they didn’t have any ones of his that I particularly liked, just the ones of half-naked women. For an artist with famed and renowned self-portraits, you’d think they would include one or two.

After that I went back to the hotel to lie down for an hour or so before dinner. The Saturday night was to be our big gala night and we were all to dress to the nines. I was wearing a fabulous emerald green dress I’d picked up for a song at Wild Child (a vintage clothing store in Temple Bar) and the incredibly high heels I’d worn to Rodrigo’s wedding. The dress was a little tight, but wearable, and I looked pretty good (I hope) although I wasn’t wearing anything designer. That night we were off to a totally hip restaurant in the Tivoli Gardens called “The Paul”, after the chef, Paul...something or other. There were no signposts or directions to the restaurant and we spent a while wandering about in the magical and lovely Tivoli Gardens but becoming increasingly frustrated and late. Eventually we found the restaurant and were shown in to our private dining room (by the totally hot waiter) where we chomped through (I kept the menu, so you are getting this straight from the horse’s mouth):

1. Starters of Gruyere profiterole, aged Parmesan and Ventrechè, roasted Marcona almonds, Date and chorizo mayonnaise branflakes (don’t remember that one!), olive vert Italiano grande and olive Nero baked with pimento del Piquillo.

2. Roasted lobster with pommes puree. Lobster reduction and pork crackling.

3. Roasted monkfish with veal sweetbread from Dønnerup Gods. Onion soubise and poached Butan onion. Clipped cress.

4. Bloc de foie gras (that was my faaaavourite – so delicious), Poached pork cheek with Autumn truffles from Alba. Green apple, sprout leaf and honey.

5. Jerusalem artichokes and roasted forest mushrooms. Watercress leaves. Aged Parmesan.

6. Duck roasted with its own sausage. Coco blanco, hazelnut and golden sultanas. Maple syrup and raspberry vinegar reduction. Parsley.

7. Aged Munster with fennel confit. Cumin knœkbrød.

8. Rice and cherry brûlée, Champagne granité. Cherry and roasted almond ice cream.

9. Teas and coffees with: nougat française, winter spices, pear and cranberry gel, blackberry sphere with dark chocolate, lavender flower truffle and honey crisp.

The (totally cute who Gary was trying to set me up with) waiter introduced most of the courses but Paul himself came out to tell us about some of them, including the foie gras and poached pork cheek. He seemed like a really fun guy but I bet he’s probably a nightmare to deal with in the kitchen! All of it was even more delicious than it sounds (I swear) but at the end of it all I felt as if I had eaten my own weight in delicacies. We ate, drank, exchanged Kris Kringle presents (here they call it Kris Kindle, weird) and had a good time. Afterwards back to the hotel bar for cocktails (are you picking up a pattern here?) but we were all kind of wrecked from so much eating (strange but true, apparently it takes a lot of energy to shovel food in your mouth) that we headed off to bed soon after. The next day up and about early for some more shopping (purely window for me) until we headed back to the airport to catch the plane home. I was pretty wrecked by this point and wasn’t sure how I was going to come in to work on Monday! I did though, and so did everyone else (bar Ceara who had scheduled that day off ages ago) and we all survived. It had been a great weekend, even if it felt like we didn’t stop eating the whole time! It was also a stark contrast to my last experience of Copenhagen – my second European city, fresh from Melbourne and still thinking in Aussie Dollars, eating Macdonald’s because it was the only food I could afford and staying at the cheapest hostels sharing rooms with 9 or so other people!