June 21, 2010: Oslo airport and a flight north...

Traveling is a process one undertakes. We travel across our homes (usually in search of food), our cars (for work), our cities (for friends), and across our countries (to visit new places). There are basic rules to traveling- 1. it's going to be exhausting, 2. you're bound to leave something at home, 3. there will be lines, 4. breathing becomes mandatory as you wait. This juncture of the trip proved no different.

Due to ill timing (trying to adjust to a new time zone) and bad luck (slowest bus driver on the planet), I arrived at the Oslo airport just in time to get lost (my only previous experience at the airport was the prior day when I was trying to leave it) and discover that my plane was closing the cabin doors. So much for the delays that plague American airports, no such luck.

Bouncing between agents (SAS and Norwegian airlines are not located next to each other), I discovered that if I made a new reservation on Norwegian air before the plane actually taxied out, I would save about $100. Running to the SAS counter I learned a ticket cost about $150 more than expensive Norwegian flight (but arrived only an hour after I was supposed to arrive). I ran back with my luggage to the Norwegian Air counter and booked the flight before the extra $100 was tagged on.

Sitting down on the bench after charging an enormous sum on the credit card, I took deep gulping breaths and slowly SMS-ed my Finish friends who were planning on picking me up in two hours time. I generally don't text and during this trip, I had already texted about five times. Before leaving the States, I had set the phone up to work in Europe, but never thought about asking for SMS/texting prices. That done, I took more deep breaths, dropped my luggage off at the counter (I was smart enough to borrow a smaller bag from the Solheim's for the short trip), and made my way past security. Where I sat some more and contemplating what I would do for the next four hours of my life while waiting for my plane.

The previous day, one of the fabulous meals I had partaken included dining with Mrs. Solheim's sister, Inga. Inga is a joyous person who not only kept the conversation going, but also lent me a much needed pair of ski pants and short boots. Mrs. Solheim's family lives quite close to each other and can visit often: her brother in the neighboring house, Inga a few km away, and their 101-year old mother just down the street in an elder home. Inga had mentioned she and two of Anne's children (Dr. and Mrs. Solheim's daughter) were going on an ice-fishing trip together the next morning, but would be at the airport after I had already left.

After an hour of waiting about, I finally remembered Inga and "the children" were going to be at the airport after my plane had taken off. I then remembered Mrs. Solheim gave me Inga's number in case I needed it. The ensuing SMS messages confirmed they were on their way and would meet me inside the security gate.

It's not every day you meet friends going traveling elsewhere inside the security gates. I waited at the statue near the bookstore scanning all the people as they made their way into the secure section wondering if I would indeed recognize her or her me (although how many sleep-deprived, worried looking Texans are going to be at the airport anyway that morning). We met up and did quick introductions. I joined them at their gate for a delightful visit. They kept offering me chairs and I kept insisting on the floor (I was really tired of sitting in chairs by that point).

The teens go to an IB (International Baccalaureate) school and are going to be the equivalent of senior and junior year in high school. We talked about classes and grades and course work.... our grade scales are bit opposite of each other so we had fun figuring out what "failure" actually meant. The senior would like to go to Cambridge, the junior isn't quite so sure yet. We talked a lot about college cost and how in America the parents/scholarships/loans are expected to pay for the bulk of the cost. In Norway, the government sponsors most of the education placing a smaller burden on most parents. Keep in mind the tax rate in Norway is rather high including the 23% surcharge on most goods. All too soon after our chat about ice-fishing, school, anime, and food it was time for their plane. I waved them off as they boarded the ramp and went back to the bookstore with a few more hours to go. The visit helped calm nerves and rejuvenate the body, it was turning into a really nice day after the fiasco of a morning.

At the bookstore it occurred to me they had books on Svalbard. After gathering a selection of English-translated books from the front table, I sat on a stool and started to read and research Svalbard and the former Russian outposts. It was a pleasant way to pass the time, all things considered. And I can now say that I've conducted book research at an airport.

Walking back toward my gate, I discovered the Oslo airport has a couple computer terminals set up for passengers. Stopping at an open one, I discovered they were bulky to use, very slow, and had European keyboards with extra letters. I typed a few very short messages on Twitter and then caught my plane.

Scandinavian airplanes look like American airplanes (many are produced by the same companies after all). The biggest difference between their airplanes and ours, is a second passenger door. About 2/3 of the way down the plane is a second entrance to load the back of the plane. The causeway splits into two sections after you enter the tunnel and those in the back rows are asked to enter from the second entrance. It really speeds up the boarding process when you have more than one entry point after check-in.

The plane ride was normal. We pulled out from the gate right on schedule and departed soon after. The ride north offered a view of Norway peaking between the clouds. Everyone had apologized for the light drizzle that misted over the country and couldn't believe I found it charming. Living in Texas, you learn to appreciate water and rain in all it's forms.

We crossed the Arctic circle without incident and continued north toward Tromo. The airline offered food and beverage for sale including: Pringles = 25 NOK, 33cl Coke = 25 NOK, Cheeseburger = 60 NOK, and Hval airbag- kid's sweets = 60 NOK. I learned Fanta is more popular than Coke in Norway, and on the airline Fanta/Sprite = 60 NOK.

Landing in Tromso we waited a few minutes for our gate. Tromo is considered one of Norway's major cities; the airport is a major hub for regional and international flight as it is the largest airport in Northern Norway. That being said, it is still a relatively small airport and it took a few extra minutes for a gate to open.

I made my way to baggage claim trying to remember exactly what the newest borrowed suitcase looked like. I remembered it was blue and I think it had a purple ribbon attached. I also started to wonder where I was going to meet my friends - saying "at the airport" seemed like such a good idea at the time and although I felt the airport was small, all of a sudden the airport was seeming rather large and looming as I waited for my luggage. I stress too much about inconsequential things, soon enough Birger found me and introduced me to his beautiful wife, wonderful child, and their Alabama-born American dog Jimmy - who growled at me. Turns out he growls at just about everyone.... I would spend the next three days reminding him that I too was an American and he had to like me. He didn't think much of that.