Aimless wandering

It has been strangely hard to get over jetlag. It’s barely 8pm before I can hardly keep my eyes open and I have a feeling this is going to be messed up even further the moment I get into the Polar night in Svalbard. On the positive side, that means I’m up with lots of time to spare – I can eat breakfast, go out and still be in time to enjoy the slow sunrise at Holmenkollen (what looks to be a very affluent residential area as well as a ski recreation area) on Line 1 of the T-bane.

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There were already those who were training for competitions at that early hour and I was the only incongruous one in jeans with a camera as I tried to capture the best hues of the morning light. Half a day was spent just admiring the sheer, steep drop from the ski jump and on impulse, I took the train up to Frognerseteren and having lost my water bottle after slipping on ice, decided against taking the longer hike towards Sognsvann. Like I did seven years ago, I found myself heading downhill towards Holmenkollen once again and this time, I followed the trail down. It’s a lot easier than it seems despite the conflicting signs and the lack of water.

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Oslo has been all about retreading old footprints this time around, and that includes cringing every time I pay for something. I wandered the streets more thoroughly, enjoyed the cold air, bought an assortment of weird Bric-à-brac (luggage tags, apples and a pair of mittens meant for a 14-year-old that fit my hands) and simply took in the scenes of the Christmas market by twilight at Karl Johan’s gate.

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