Remembering Oslo

I just got back from picking up my little brother from the airport this evening; he was in Europe for two months, travelling through some of my favourite cities with his girlfriend. Barcelona, Lisbon, Berlin, Prague, Budapest, Amsterdam…just the mention of these cities incites a sense of excitement in me, an overwhelming urge to return. Even though Kitt and I only had a bit of time to discuss his trip while in the car, in that short time we were able to share stories of those cities, those streets, those cultures.

I was in Norway in 2006, spending a few beautiful midsummer days and nights there. I had a travel romance with a young man I had met on a the overnight boat from Copenhagen to Oslo; we had stayed up all night talking and kissed as the sun rose, promising to meet up the next day. That chance encounter led to four days of picnics in the park, wandering through the Ibsen museum, sampling the street food, and feeding birds by a local pond. I marvelled at the fact that it was only dark for a few hours every night.

There are so many cities I could happily revisit, Oslo being one of them. There is something to be said for seeing a city again through different eyes, whether those eyes be older, or wiser, or simply looking in a different direction. My days in Canada have been incredibly busy, with a new job and new friends and a new house and a new outlook on my future; I’m seeing it all, I’m loving it all. Perhaps I just needed to look in a different direction.