Oslo

is the pure white crisp cold snow-covered cloaked-in-darkness city that you always imagined. Fjords and fishing boats everywhere, red-checked Norwegians toting skis around the city (presumably heading to catch trains out of the city). To be fair, there was more racial diversity in the city center than I'd have guessed. K and her friend NB and I walked along snow-covered sidewalks all around the dark city--by the icy harbor, through the fortress still guarded by gun-toting sentries (seriously, there have been guns everywhere I turn the last few weeks. And people say Americans are the ones with guns), by the palace and shops.
The motherland, as my brother called it, looked surprisingly like the hilly parts of my home state. The streets shared names with the class rosters of my youth.
I was left wanting, of course, and will go back once I've become a millionaire. I feel like I'm talking about $ all the time, but you can't pay $10 for a glass of local beer, $2 for the use of a toilet, or have noticed that the local pizza chain offers individual pizzas for $40 each without mentioning it.
Before crossing the North Sea, K showed me a fabulous time in England. She took me to the Bronte moors and the Peak District. She and her friends took me out drinking, twice, during which I had a stomach-churning mix of drinks (from Pimms and lemonade to Mojitos to chambord martinis to Aftershock shots and absinthe shots) but managed to keep my feet on the ground and not be hungover for the 7 a.m. 90 mph drive to Newcastle to catch the plane.
Although our time in Oslo was pretty tame, I feel today as if most of my brain has been removed and replaced by lead. The twinkling dizzy spots are a regular part of my existence.
I think I need to go home.