We slept until 10 o’clock, 9am GMT. This was our first morning in Oslo and leaving the hostel we noticed how empty the city was on a Saturday leading up to Christmas. Before coming to Oslo I had read about a Knut Hamsun exhibition that was taking place at the Vigeland Museum. We looked at the map and decided we could walk there, taking in the city on the way.

Approaching the town hall we saw the harbour and, although it was only midday, orange sunlight was reflecting off the water. We walked around a Christmas market and saw the usual things that are sold at Christmas markets – mulled wine, Norwegian knitwear, Reindeer burgers. We had not had breakfast yet and I was looking for coffee, but was being difficult and particular about it: no drip coffee. We bought a bag of ten doughnuts from a doughnut stand and walked along the harbour eating these, taking off our gloves to take them out of the bag and then putting our gloves back on. We walked past a TGI Fridays that had posters entirely in English outside. There were other restaurants that weren’t open yet, built underneath high-rise offices. We found a café called Wayne’s Coffee. I later found out that Wayne’s Coffee is a Scandinavian chain, founded in Sweden. We read the board behind the counter and looked at the food. I approached the barista and spoke in broken English, perhaps thinking that this would help her understand me. Er, two Americano? (Making a V sign with my fingers.) And a brownie? We paid and she told us in perfect English to have a seat and she would bring us our drinks. She bought us our drinks and it was the best coffee I have ever had, to this day. Months later, lying in bed unable to sleep, the taste of Wayne’s Coffee would haunt me and I would regret not having the foresight to buy some of their house blend while I had the chance. Before finishing our coffee, the barista came over to our table. Excuse me, she said. Is this you? She showed me a passport photo of myself. I blushed, confused by what was happening. Yes, ha-ha. It was over there, she said. Thanks, ha-ha. It had fallen out of my girlfriend’s purse. I looked at the manic staring eyes of my portrait and handed it across the table.

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