A Week in Oslo and Paris

The first vacationey leg of our extended time overseas came to a close a little less than a week ago. Now, we’re a few days deep in the domestic, everyday, ‘Holy Fuckfire, you have a book coming out in five weeks!’ portion of our adventure. Just a few things to share before going on with the reality of life for a while, though it is the reality of life in Spain, so it’s kind of a surreal reality at the moment.

Oslo in a Whirlwind

Jet lag is a bitch of a bitch, isn’t it? And overnight flights are simply cruel with their abbreviated sleeps. Our seven-and-a-half-hour flight on Norwegian Air, for some unbeknownst reason, allowed us only three uninterrupted hours of sleep between the serving of dinner and the serving of breakfast. Not that I don’t appreciate their effort at keeping me hydrated and well-fed and all, but three hours from lights-on to lights-on? Come on.

When jet lag gets me, I don’t fight it. I give in like a well-rocked baby. So, there was a nap had first thing when we arrived in Oslo, and another the following afternoon.

Our first full day of meals featured Indian and then pizza, and the second started with Asian food, indicating just how much I appreciated the local delicacies of reindeer and whale meat as dining options. Oslo does, however, have a regional coffee shop/juice shop called Joe and the Juice that I want badly to squish real small and carry everywhere with me in my pocket.

Overall, Oslo was a rather lovely place just to be in. Great architecture, a stunning waterfront, good historical feels, and some of the most fantastic parks and plazas I’ve ever seen. Plus, the sun went on and on forever, but at night, it was so chilly, we still needed our coats.

That’s a win.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Three Days in Paris

After Oslo, we stayed four nights in Paris, but our flight between the two was in the evening, so we did nothing but walk down the street of the largely suburban, residential neighborhood of our hotel for bottles of water the first night, getting in just before the lightning began to flash in earnest and the rain started to fall.

Day two in Paris was a great washout through most of the morning and afternoon, so, though we rose late, we still got plenty soaked. When the sun finally decided to come out, though, it stayed for the rest of our time there. Before the rain let up, we had the most wonderful lunch away from the touristy area, and collected our first crepe somewhere between the park that touches the Louvre and the Champs Elysees.

Then, there were more treats and hot tea and miles and miles of walking.

Day two, we started touristy, going into Notre Dame, because we didn’t on our first visit. Then, we abandoned the more known areas and rode the metro into the northeast of the city to Parc des Buttes Chaumont, so I could see for myself that there is a waterfall in Paris. A delicious, pizza-ey pastry and more treats later, and it was back to the hotel.

Apparently, having not done enough walking that day, we tacked on a couple of miles in search of a reasonably-sized coffee, and cried when the local McDonald’s could still only produce a European-large.

Day three was devoted to Monet, with a slight smattering of other artists. Taking the train from St. Lazare to Vernon, we hoofed it the more than three miles to Giverny to make sure we saw all there was to see. It was a hot walk, for sure, but didn’t seem all that deadly. Then, in Giverny, we strolled through Monet’s gardens, alongside his lily pond, and made a beeline through his very hot and crowded house, before popping into the Impressionist Museum there, which boasts exactly one good painting. When we returned to Paris, there was enough time to pulverize some strawberries and cream and caramel custard on the steps before going in for the late-night extension at Musee d’Orsay.

It was one hell of a taxing and long day, for sure, but it was the last, so we had to make the most of it, regardless of our early flight the next morning that would have us getting only four hours of sleep.

Hindsight, seriously, 20/20.

But, first, some pictures.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Riley Gets Sun Poisoning

I am terribly sensitive to the effects of heat and sun. When I was a kid, this cost me many a summer day. So many, in fact, they should have revoked my pool rights and banned me from  waterparks and fairs.

So, apparently, those hours in the sun and heat, along with that early-morning flight, were a deadly combination. Amazingly, though I also don’t typically endure flight all that swimmingly either, I made it from takeoff to landing with only slight stomach upset. Then, we had to walk our carry-ons miles through the Madrid airport to retrieve our checked bag and things started to get bleak. It was through sheer force of will, and kind of out of necessity, that I made it to the public transit that got me to the Madrid train station and onto the train bound for Seville.

Hit with icky sickness, I slept the majority of the journey to keep from puking, negating the entire point of taking the train, which is also to see what wonder the way beholds. And by the time the people we’re renting from showed us into the apartment, I was in some serious shape, just waiting for them to leave, so I could fall back on the couch and try not to die.

Since we had no food, a store run was an utter necessity, so, some hours later, I dragged myself into the 104-degree-heat that was our opening temperature here in Seville to help do the shopping. On our walk back, the pukes pressed heavier and heavier upon me, until my mantra became, ‘I just need to make it back to the apartment. Then, I can puke in private.’

Good news! We did make it back, where I walked in, promptly went into the bathroom and christened our two-and-a-half-month Seville rental in vomit. For which I was glad, because, after that, I could finally eat and put coffee in my face.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, “Flock to the shade and stay hydrated, Kids!”