6. Oslo in the Rain

Our ship arrives in Oslo sometime after midnight. I don't notice that it has stopped moving but it's a nice surprise to see buildings through the window when I wake up. It is still dark because way up here, the day doesn't start until well after 7am. Our balcony is wet and the glass sliding door has rivulets of water rolling down to the floor. Heavy, relentless rain is belting into our side of the ship.

It's no better later when we arrive for breakfast. Huge drops are forcing the sea below to ripple outwards. It is not looking good. I heard someone mention they were doing a walking and ferry tour. I had considered doing that tour with Get Your Guide, but decided against it when I heard that the weather bureau had put out severe weather warnings.

By 10 o'clock and with no relief from the pelting rain, we don our wet weather gear, after all we have brought clothes for all eventualities with us, and venture out of the ship. We are berthed right in the centre of Oslo, so we are close to everything, except when God opens his faucet and tries to drown everyone below. Outside, we skirt deep puddles and make our way to a makeshift tent where we buy Hop-on-hop-off bus tickets then run towards the bus stop. We don't see the bus stop, or maybe we are looking for a bus shelter that doesn't exist. But as we are getting drenched, Tom flags down a double-decker red bus that has stopped at the traffic lights. The driver opens the door and allows Tom in with me jumping in just behind. He asks to see our tickets, which were for Gray Line, not his Sightseeing brand bus. As the lights change, he tells us not to worry and takes off with the green light. At the next intersection, he turns right and pulls us alongside another red bus, virtually hemming it in. With a grin, he opens the door, lets us out and points to the bus that he has just effectively blocked from leaving. The driver from the Gray Line bus had obviously come out to see why his bus was blocked only for us to jump on board, collect our headphones, and disappear up the stairs to the top deck of the bus. The friendliness and helpfulness of our first driver reminds us of the way the Irish take care of their tourists, and I am sure that the story of the bus driver saving us from being absolutely drenched will be told by us for years to come.

We cannot see anything through the windows of our new bus, but we are thankful the roof is closed and that there is some sort of heater working. I rub portholes into the fog to give us a point of reference so we have some chance of recognising that buildings pointed out in the commentary. The commentary is excellent and I would recommend Gray Line HOHO for Oslo. We pass the museums in the Bygdoy precinct and probably should have had a look at the Fram and Con Tiki museums as they were highly recommended. The Viking longboat has unfortunately been stored away whilst a new museum is to be built in this area. We don't get off here though because despite the rain, we do have a plan.

Alighting at the Opera House, exactly where we got on over an hour ago, we take tentative steps on the white Carrara marble surface. It's not slippery at all. We skirt the Opera House, vowing to return tomorrow and whilst the rain has abated slightly, hurry to the chrome and glass building next door. The huge space open inside the door is airy and light, the glass windows soaring from floor to well above our heads. It's time for coffee and a few minutes to collect our thoughts before we explore this large building, or at least part of it. After a teeny drama when learning how to use the lockers to store our backpack, we use an escalator to go to the next floor. Inside the space there, we decide that it is not to our liking and enquire where we could find the gallery containing the works of art for whom this entire building is dedicated.

Up one floor and inside an open space, we find examples of the paintings of Edvard Munch. Although his works are scattered throughout his museum, it is really only one that we are the most interested in seeing; The Scream.

Inside this space, surrounded by some really wonderful paintings by Munch, and many not to my taste at all, is a black display area where three versions of the Scream are housed; the painting, drawing, and print. Due to them being painted on cardboard rather than canvas, they are very fragile and can only be exposed to light for a short time each day, hence the black-painted display area. More brilliantly though is the way in which each of these is shown for half-an-hour at a time. When I arrive, the black and white drawing is displayed. After taking a couple of photos, I move to the rest of the exhibition, timing my viewing to the next half hour. The black space is filled with eager people waiting for what we are waiting patiently to see.

Then it happens.

Black doors silently and slowly open to reveal the painting. I sneak a look to the side, but the line drawing has already disappeared behind it's set of black doors. The excited young and old art lovers in front of us take their photos, then selfies of themselves imitating the facial expressions of the painting. I don't do anything so juvenile, but do laugh at the small girl in her father's arms in front of us who had perfected the Scream marvellously as she twisted her face, hands on either side of her face.

The rain abates slightly, but only long enough for us to take photos in front of the OSLO sign just outside the Munch Museum. As we walk across the front of the Opera House, promising ourselves that we will return tomorrow, we pull up our hoods and walk through the rain, which has started to fall in earnest again, dodge puddles, and return to the ship.