Spiselig Sopp

Rain in late summer is good. The mushrooms love it. Taking regular walks outdoors in the forests and keeping our eyes on the ground ensure a constant supply of mushrooms. Yes, we pick those edible kinds. Obviously I wouldn't even attempt to identify which sort of mushrooms are edible. I go with someone who knows mushrooms. When in doubt, leave them alone. Most mushrooms are toxic and poisonous to humans, especially the pretty ones.

Mushroom-picking is done on a regular basis on weekends when no one stays in the city and everyone heads out of town and hits the countryside in just 45 minutes. That's the beauty of Oslo. It's surrounded by so much natural beauty that it's impossible not to grow a love for the outdoors be it in summer or winter. There's plenty of huge steinsopp to be picked as well. I know it as 'porcini'. MY FAV. Fantastic.

On a random jaunt halfway up the mountains, the friends spotted a species that they knew is edible. It's a type of butter mushroom (smørsopp), specifically the ringløs smørsopp or commonly known as 'Weeping Bolete'. It's pretty close to 'Slippery Jack' but not quite. The smooth undersides are a cheerful butter-yellow. Sometimes we're prepared to pick edibles by taking along ziplocks. Often we carry them to put phones and credit cards in case of rain. When we don't, we improvise. In this case, with pieces of paper till we got back to the car where there were little baskets in the boot to hold the smørsopp.

The amount of smørsopp we picked that afternoon was sufficient to feed eight people at dinner that evening. It was made into chunky mushroom sauce to go with the meats. Lightly salted, all the woody flavors were kept. Delicious.

Those Big and Old Houses

There aren't many tall buildings in Norway. High-rise residential apartments are definitely not a thing in Oslo yet. There're some swanky new apartments in the city centre by the waterfront. But most apartments and houses are old, and many date back to the 1930s. Of course you could demolish an old house and rebuild, subject to agreement by the city council, area committees and immediate surrounding neighbors. Extensive renovation and refurbishment work would be involved too.

On the tram one afternoon passing by a stretch of road, I stared out in fascination at the houses along the row. I said, "These houses are very big!" The girlfriend grinned. "They are also very old and cold." She continued and I erupted in laugher. She made a rhyming thingy that was both corny and cool. We definitely have been frequenting corn fields a wee bit much. So it goes like this, and I've been told to sign off jointly as B.N. Bold.

These houses are very big.
They are also very old and cold.
If truth be told, they are full of mold.
They will not fold,
Though how long they will hold can't be foretold.
Standing on land worth more than gold.
Bam goes the hammer, the land is sold. 

~ B.N. Bold

The Boys Made Lunch For Us

The perks of having teenage boys in the house. We could set them to work. Muahahah. I've bravely ordered one to take out the trash a couple of times. Even the youngest was asked to help out. He could easily peel garlic, slice them and got the pounder to mash them up for us to make marinade.

And we've made two teenagers cook us lunch. They cheerfully did so. Kinda unplanned. The boys were at home lurking around the kitchen, looking rather unoccupied, i.e free of schoolwork and other chores. So we kept them busy. Lunch was made for us on two occasions, so far. The girlfriend and I are planning a third. :P

Can't stress this enough- the girlfriend churns out fantastic dishes and doesn't mind that I can't quite cook and can only be a helper. Hehehe. She has cleverly trained her boys to sort out many meals on their own. They could dice, slice, watch the fire and do something savory, and kinda clean up after themselves. Back to these lunches done for us. Lunch is always kept simple. Hot food, yes, but none of that three-course meal thingies we do for dinner. The boys, on separate occasions, made us an omelette and grilled yummy tomato-cheese-ciabatta sandwiches. Very awesome.

Fikensesong

Sommer. Fiken. It's the season for figs (and many berries and apples) till the end of next month I think, for countries slipping into autumn soon. But it has been a warm summer, so that means a shorter season for figs. No matter. We'll get whatever we can and enjoy them. Bought bucket-fuls.

That's the thing about Singapore. I never know which season offers what types of fruits. To me, I get them all year round, with the only variable being quality, and as usual, freshness. This is Norway, so figs aren't cheaper than what we get in Singapore. I understand that NTUC Finest and Cold Storage sell four figs in a box for something between S$7 to S$17. In Oslo, depending on the country of import, they range between NOK6 to NOK16 per fig. Yup, between S$1.20 to S$4.20 for ONE fig. Although figs here are better in terms of variety of species and quality; they're superbly huge, fresh and juicy.

Love figs fresh, love 'em in all forms. Ate them during breakfast with granola or just as a snack in the afternoon. On one of those late afternoons when the boys were gobbling bread because they were so hungry before dinner at 8pm, we followed suit with nibbles, but not with the bread. Sliced up a few figs, squished goat cheese in the middle, put them in the oven and in five minutes, we had forretter. With a dark imperial stout 'Odin's Tipple' by HaandBryggeriet. They complemented each other so well. Very satisfying.

Multer

The one thing I've been eating a lot here is multer, or cloudberries. Not in the form of a jam, but in its freshly picked tart form. Somehow I like having it in the mornings for a very light breakfast. Don't mind having breakfast here because lunch is also super light. I can't deal with hot breakfasts in the morning. Too early for the stomach, unless it's eggs. Most mornings, I like a glass of cold water and freshly squeezed juice to wake up, then sort out a bit of light bites in the form of muesli or granola. I love cloudberries best with granola and a dash of kesam.

Coffee in Norway is generally decent, although I prefer to have it plain black here. No sugar, of course. Don't quite like how the milk taste with it. The milk is kinda naturally sweet, so I rather drink it on its own. Perhaps I haven't tried enough brands to discern the differences. Anyway. Cafes. I don't have a preferred one. Whichever convenient and smells good will do. Just avoid Starbucks, will ya? Their beans seem fine when we sort it out on the coffee machine at home. But at the Starbucks cafes, they just don't come out very nice. Depending on what beans we've ground over the weekend, coffee flavors change around. Currently, it's an Ethiopian Yirgacheffe. Mmm.

Forbidden Music

There was at least one performance we wanted to check out at Oslo Kammermusikkfestival. Quite a substantial programme over two weekends. We chose a short programme in the morning themed 'Forbuddt Musikk III'. Of course the theme could only refer to composers the Third Reich banned. Some of the performances of the festival, like this one, were aptly held at Villa Grande, which used to be executed traitor Vidkun Quisling's home, and now turned into the Holocaust Study Centre. The three composers featured were Gideon Klein, Arnold Schoenberg and Beethoven. Pieces for the violin, viola and the cello. Klein's Terezin (Theresienstadt) 1944, Schoenberg's Op.45, and Beethoven's Op 9 No.3.

The musicians of the Phoebus Stryketrio (Phoebus String Trio) comprised Tor Johan Bøen, Bénédicte Royer and Aurélienne Brauner. Klein was safe and offered easy listening before the discordant melodies and extreme contrasts of Schoenberg's Op 45. I like Beethoven's 'String Trios' because they're so different from the symphonies and the piano sonatas, and Phoebus Stryketrio did a lovely job interpreting that.

Still nursed heartache over my fried Macbook, but the music made the pain easier to bear. Not so much about the data within. Those are retrievable. It's more of anger at my own carelessness. To think I've got a cover for the keyboard to protect it, yet spilled the glass of water straight into the back vents of the switched-on Macbook. Schoenberg's Op 45 amplified that pain (yah, #firstworldproblems), lifted it and by the end of Part III, the ache was soothed. 

Pacific Northwest Wines in Oslo

Was invited to a ladies' wine-tasting session themed 'Pacific Northwest'. I grinned. How very nice. On the menu were seven bottles of whites and reds from Washington State. Did you know that Ballard in Seattle has fairly strong Nordic influences in its buildings and food mainly because of its early Nordic settlers who came for the salmon?

I don't know wines. Unfortunately, they're just fermented grape juice to me. New world wines and grand cru are all the same to my tastebuds. Neither am I all that fond of them. Yeah, I know my tea, coffee, whisky and beer. But not wine. So the usual easy merlot of the Pacific Northwest are great. Not keen on their pinot noir. I prefer Australian pinot noir for easier drinking. Contemplated wearing a Pearl Jam tee (I brought it here!) to the host's home, and in the end, settled for a plaid shirt to look less grunge. Heh.

Grinned even wider when I spotted Charles Smith Wines' 'The Velvet Devil'. I drank loads of that just this spring in Seattle. Kinda miss it. Had two glasses of that. Yummy. Avoided the whites. Didn't quite feel like the acidity. Not very fond of the lighter flavors that more or less end up tasting sour on the tastebuds. Whites are often wasted on me.

The tasting session was hosted by one of the ladies at her home. The host took loads of effort to prep the table, lit candles, sorted out table linen and all. Another collated tasting notes and printed out the information for all who attended. Couldn't believe how hospitable they were. Dinner was done potluck style with everyone contributing a dish, and the host coordinated the menu. It was quite a lovely party. Surprisingly, I found many common topics with majority. If I'm not just a visitor to Oslo, but a new resident beginning to reach out, it's a wonderful way to meet new people, hear their stories and get a feel of the city. After all, I crashed this intimate party and was made to feel welcomed.

Reds for the evening. The whites were still in the fridge.

Vikingskipshuset

I quite enjoy History Channel's 'Vikings', although I know it might be a load of bull. Created by Michael Hirst, the television drama can be bit cheesy in terms of plot and actors' lines. Oh whatever. I like the re-imagining of that period in history and see it come to life on the television screen.

Not like the era of Viking supremacy was so romantic. It was the most violent period and Vikings had a fearsome reputation for good reason. (Like all colonialists, really.) Trade back then wasn't a civilized process. Raids, wars, pillage and colonization. People didn't live long and usually lived in fear.

Had to visit the Viking Ship Museum. It's a small musuem. You could finish it in 15 minutes if you're not keen on wooden ships or Vikings. It's got three precious ships of which one (Tune) was destroyed, and two standing (The Gokstad and the decorative Oseberg). It's amazing how the ships washed up inland or how the geological formations arranged it so that the ships were buried under soil at the deltas. Also of interest to me were the skeletons and artifacts found that gave a hint to life back then.

Well, I had more photos from the visit, but they've been half-lost along with my fried Macbook. Till I retrieve them, that is, if I can be bothered to do so. The most important data required for work purposes had all been backed up. WHEWWW. Never mind, I've got postcards and a scarf from the museum! The friends had taken some photos of the day and donated them to me. The girlfriend told me to go to York and join the Jorvik Viking Festival next February. Apparently that will be the 31st year of the festival. Hahaha. Not sure I'm that dedicated.

Reading From The Children's Library

My understanding of spoken Norwegian is of course close to nil. But reading it isn't so bad. There're patterns and grammar rules. It'll take a while, but it isn't that difficult to acquire an understanding of it. It's the spoken which I'll need to practise. It doesn't work like Thai because I don't have this 'feel' for how to pronounce the words with rising or lowered tones.

There're two types of Norwegian- Bokmål and Nynorsk, both of which are legal equals. Municipalities, schools and organisations are free to choose either to teach, publish or use as their 'preferred official language'. In Oslo, you generally hear Bokmål being spoken and written, and Bokmål is the one I start with.

Clearly, I can't read the newspapers, brochures or novels. Can't guess the meaning of the Norwegian words in English either. Sometimes words seem like a derivation, but more often than not, it isn't and it certainly doesn't mean what I think it means in English. I can read children's books. If I need help with pronunciation, I ask the girlfriend's children. Hahaha. They're just really tickled that I'm starting from ground up, like when they were four years old. So, I combed through picture books, and this, 'Lille Gruffalo' by Julia Donaldson and Axel Scheffler.

I was like, what on earth is a 'vedstabelhus'? A something-something house. Asked the girlfriend. She described it as a little shed of sorts, maybe to stockpile wood or something. Okay. This is the story of Gruffalo's Child who went out in the night and found a trail in the snow and a tail sticking out and wondered if the strange creature was the Big Bad Mouse.

Åhå! Spor i snø, i bukt og i bend!
Hvem setter slikt spor? Hvor går det hen?
En hale stakk ut fra et vedstabelhus.
Er dette halen til Store Stygge Mus?

Getting Around Oslo

While the friends drive and all that, and don't mind taking me around, I like to take some time alone too. The city of Oslo is small and getting around is easy. The friends didn't even bother to tell me how and what beyond showing me the nearest three train stations to the house. Hahahah. They completely trust my sense of direction.

There's the inter-city commuter rail of which also leads passengers to and fro the airports. There're options of the Metro or what Oslo calls it as the T-bane, the tram or the bus. I like the T-bane best. They run every 15 - 20 minutes. It's the most convenient option for me and it takes me everywhere that I want to go. Although, why do so many train stations stink of urine. UGH.

Downloaded the Ruter app onto my phone and buying tickets has never been easier. I'm just really thrilled Ruter made an app for the Windows phone. Heh. With a local data-SIM card (took Telenor because Netcom RAN OUT of SIM cards. Win lor. But not unlimited data though. 10MB a day, capped at 1GB a month I think. S$60), it makes travel easy, checking train schedules and buying tickets. E-tickets are downloaded to my phone. Depending on whether there's an officer to check the tickets upon exit, then I'll flash the email/PDF copy of my ticket upon request.

The best part- I could pay for these tickets with a credit card (as long as you have a PIN code for it), even if it's only NOK30 (~S$6). Importantly, the e-tickets are fantastic for buses and trams because they don't offer the option of buying hard-copies at the respective stops, and if you buy on the tram/bus, it's quite a lot more to pay for per ticket. Just grab a NOK90 (S$18) 24-hour ticket for unlimited trips across T-bane, tram and bus. It's quite awesome that I haven't had to change cash at all! I have zero Norwegian kroners on me. Wheeee.

Frognerparken & Vigelandsparken

Took a very quick walk around Vigeland-musset then crossed to Frogner Park to the area known as 'Vigelandsparken' where 212 statues sat. These statues are sculpted in bronze, granite and cast iron. They were created by Gustav Vigeland between the 1920s to 1943. He also designed the medal for the Nobel Peace Prize.

It was a bright hot day. Felt awesome to be out in the sun. Happily wandered through the park. Spent time staring up at the statues. I think its most famous statue is of 'Sinnataggen' at 83cm tall. Also known as Grumpy or 'The Little Angry Boy'. Apparently it keeps getting stolen and vandalized. The other statues weren't less interesting. Male and female, adults and children. Lovely poses.

There were plenty of tourists in the park. I strolled by a small group. Two men had this perturbed look on their faces as they looked at the statues. They had obviously just got off the tourist coaches and entered the park. One exclaimed, “怎么都是这样的啊！” I had to quickly walk away to cackle. Couldn't stifle my laughter. No wonder the friends called it 'Park of the Naked Statues'.

Phở in Oslo

Each city will have a Chinatown of sorts, or at least an Asian area that springs up organically for whatever reasons. We swung by the Asian supermarket for get a pack of chilli padi. The moment you walk through the air curtain, instantly, that smell. It's the same smell which you will remember from the supermarket at Golden Mile Complex. I dunno. A mixture of strange wilting vegetables, spices and dunno-what. A smell that's associated with many 'Asian supermarkets' in Chinatowns across the cities.

Met with friends. Lunch was sorted out at this Vietnamese eatery called Lille Saigon 1 (Gingergrass). The eatery has three outlets, but the friends like this one for the location. They certainly didn't pick it for me, the tourist. They picked the choice of food for themselves. Heh. They live here and will certainly miss Asian food especially if they grew up on it. I'm a visitor and can live without it for the month, no issues. Lille Saigon serves good Vietnamese dishes, way more authentic than what we get at home in Singapore.

Instead of the usual clear beef soup and thin beef slices in phở bò tái nạm, I picked its heartier version of phở bò khi (a beef stew of sorts with rice noodles). Each bowl is about NOK110 (~S$23). Okay lah, Melbourne and London pricing. I haven't had much carbs these two weeks. The rice noodles was quite a shock to my stomach and it refused to finish the full bowl. Hahah. Should have shared!

Lille Saigon 1 (Gingergrass)
Bernt Ankers gate 7, 0183 Oslo

A Birthday Breakfast

There was a birthday breakfast for a newly-minted teenager. In the family's tradition, they do the wishes/presents/photos early in the morning before the boys go to school.

The friends made little molten chocolate lava cakes. I was a tad horrified. SUGAR AT 7.30AM???! The stomach lurched. It was a birthday, so I happily ate the not-that-sweet cake. There were even two flavors of ice-cream to go along with it. I skipped that. Certainly didn't mind cold water, juices, berries or yoghurt. But not ice-cream this early, not even if it's a really nice real vanilla bean flavor.

Couldn't come empty-handed to Norway. Even if I ignore the adults, presents must be bought for the boys. The girlfriend was most disapproving. She was like, "You'll spoil them! They don't need presents!" Hmmmph. Anyway, a gift was bought for the birthday boy, and also for his brothers. Fair is fair, yea? 

Told the friends that I would get each of their boys a fancy 32-GB iPod Touch. That four-inch retina display, WiFi, camera, messaging, Safari, dual-core A5 chip fantastic for gaming, everything. Growing boys always need new gadgets. They're fans of Apple anyway. The friends acquiesced, but not without some nagging at me. Pooh-ey. Bought the gadgets in Singapore and packed them into the cabin luggage. Got giant bone-crushing bear hugs from the boys by way of thanks. The older ones are taller than me! Then the girlfriend groaned. She's the 'one-woman Apple Tech Support' in the house. It means that each time a new gadget comes in, she has to go through every piece to set parental restrictions. What a pain. HAHAHAHA. I was not sympathetic. Sat beside her to watch her zoom through the set-up and settings to disable certain functions, and sipped my beer, lending no help whatsoever.

FitFlopping

I do wear FitFlop. Well, not its flip-flops for sure. Dunno...it just doesn't appeal to me aesthetically. But in storage, I have a few pairs of its ankle boots and boots for fall and winter and cold rainy days. They're super well padded and give me the needed support to walk for hours. Just gotta manage the humidity so that they don't disintegrate on me when worn. Well, if I spot a nice pair of ballerina flats, perhaps I'll get them. They're just an online click away, as long as the prices remain under the Norway customs tax requirements.

Really like FitFlop's bedroom slippers. Its the warmest thing ever. Perfect for those cold evenings. Those little faux-fur bits and fleece. Wheeeee. The girlfriend loaned me a pretty pair of slippers for the house. I've been merrily schlepping around in them. Of course we sit down, sprawl and chill out at home. But half the time, we're also doing chores and prepping stuff in the kitchen. I prefer to wear shoes in the kitchen than go barefooted. Nothing to do with cleanliness, but everything to do with arch support when standing for an hour or so hunched over the kitchen counter.

I have no use for these comfy bedroom slippers in Singapore. Even with air-conditioning, it's too hot. Birkies work for me in the humidity. Somehow, the foot bed suits the arch of my feet. Remind me not to 'accidentally' pack this snug pair into my suitcase when I leave. :D

Norske håndverket øl

Beer in Norwegian is 'øl'. That's the first sort of pronunciation I must get right. I'm pleased that the local supermarkets stock pretty decent craft beers. I started with the familiar Nøgne Ø. Love its Havrestout and Brown Ale.

At NOK49 to NOK54 a bottle at the stores, they're about S$10 to S$12. The bars charge more of course, but all still cheaper than Singapore. And there I thought alcohol in Oslo is going to be pricey because of its prohibitive alcohol tax which also includes an environmental tax on glass containers, packaging unit and single-usage. But one forgets that when it comes to base prices, nothing beats Singapore. Overall, alcohol in Oslo is still about 15% cheaper than what I get at home.

I'm not here to hang out at rowdy pubs. The friends have got perfectly gorgeous homes with enough space for us to chill out without having to cross paths with rude drunks. I bought bottles to stock up in the girlfriend's gigantic fridge so that I could just have a pint or two every other night. No issues drinking at home yet. Her boys aren't interested in my smelly beer. Oof. Would love to cart all these beer home to Singapore. But glass. Weight and high possibility of breakage. Not even two bottles (within Singapore Customs' quota of a litre of beer with a bottle of whisky); it's simply not worth the effort. Eiooww. I'll drink 'em all here till my beer belly pops out.

Such A Breeze To Cook

Late summer turning into autumn means cool weather still. The low humidity and temperatures averaging 17°C in the day and 10°C in the night means that even while grilling and stir-frying in the kitchen, I'm comfortable in a tee and track pants.

We're feeding growing boys at home. Seeing the kids day-in-day-out...couldn't help noticing that boys eat SO MUCH. They eat all the time. Luckily they're old enough to sort out their breakfasts and cook eggs, pack their own lunch boxes, and when they get back from school, make sandwiches to soothe hunger pangs before dinner at 6.30pm or 7pm. Best part is, they're old enough to be sent out to buy last minute items that we might have missed out on a grocery run. But usually, we send them out to buy ice-cream and chocolate. :P

The girlfriend is superbly organized in the kitchen. No surprise there. She's quite the planner. Otherwise we'd be in the kitchen all day slicing, dicing, juicing and marinating just for a hot meal at dinner. Not much point in getting take-out when there're more than three persons at mealtimes. There're plenty of fresh ingredients- way easier and healthier to sort out something in your own kitchen. By Norwegian standards, the girlfriend is an adventurous cook. Her boys are surprisingly non-fussy eaters. They more or less eat everything placed in front of them. Still, she couldn't stop rolling her eyes when she realized how much of potato-monsters her boys and I are. Hurhurhur. Potatoes lightly grilled with salt and spices. Butter is optional.

Madama Butterfly

Operahuset Nordfjord.

Spent a night at 'Madama Butterfly' with Den Norske Opera & Ballett. It's a beautiful opera house. Cosy. The main auditorium seats about 1300 people. It's been a long time since I last watched a version of this opera. Imho, it's got the most-hated storyline among all classical operas. I still have a serious dislike for it. (And an opera is kinda like the classical version of a musical. Bit draining to listen to a show that sings all the way. But choral singing, okay. I'll live.) With age, I've learnt to concentrate on the singing and check out the creativity with direction of the opera, costumes, stage sets and lighting.

Directed by Stephen Langridge, and conducted by John Helmer Fiore, musical director of the Den Norske Opera & Ballett, the main roles of and Cio-Cio-san (Butterfly) and Pinkerton were respectively filled by Hui He (和慧) and Ricardo Massi. The Norwegian Operakoret and the Operaorkestret formed the rest of the line-up. The costumes were utilitarian rather than gloriously extravagant, quite opposed to what one would expect of a wedding kimono. Sure, the focus was on the singing, less of the acting and the frills I suppose. Hui He was wonderful. Such power in her voice. This Pinkerton could have been more hateful. Rather, he was almost wimpy. Well, he is a wimp.

I was quite stunned by the interpretation of Cio-Cio-san's child, Sorrow. There was a silent human ghosting around in Act 1, played by actor Randolf Walderhaug. While we had our suspicions by the time intermission came, we couldn't be certain who he was till Act 2. He played the role of the child. And this actor is a 56-year-old adult. It completely creeped me out! Apparently, the Den Norske Opera & Ballett has this thing for staging Puccini operas as flashbacks or dreams. They staged 'Madama Butterfly' in 2012 like that with the same costumes in the same color combination, but in 2014, swopped out the soprano and tenor leads. Okayyy. Quite a refreshing production. The Operaorkestret was excellent in its cadences, playing beautifully to the rise and fall of the moods.

Hui He as 'Cio-Cio-san' in Den Norske Opera & Ballett's 2014 production.
(Image from Den Norske Opera & Ballett.)

Argent

The friends hadn't been to Argent Restaurant either. We took a chance with it for an early dinner since it was at a most convenient location. Apparently this restaurant was closed through July for summer holidays and only reopened three days ago. Their menus naturally follow the season and this menu will last a month till September 14th.

By now I already know that the earlier-feared crazy alcohol prices in Oslo are nothing compared to Singapore's out-of-this-world prices. A quick browse at the bottle shops and a quick scan of the wine lists confirmed that drinking here, isn't going to be an issue. A Laphroaig Quarter Cask retails at NOK549.90, which is approximately S$112. (I've been told Sweden's about SEK459; ~S$84) HAHAHAHAH. If not for the Customs quota at home, I'd have swept those shelves clean. Even the fine-dining prices aren't that horrifying. It's probably a hit and miss thing of prices (i.e labor and minimal wage) versus quality of food. It's just that in Oslo with a population of 650,000, the range of restaurants isn't that exciting yet.

Love these new-to-me flavors of Scandinavian cooking that of course uses local produce. The table ordered loads of small plates to share. Forget the soups. There's something salty about European soups that I'm generally not fond of. It seems to be the same here. I can't do these soups unless used as 'dips' for bread.

The sharing plates were awesome. Gamely took a slice of that wild boar with walnut pesto and purple onion compote. Tender and beautifully grilled. Especially love the Frøya Norway lobster with cucumber ice-cream, pickled fennel and shellfish foam. The Norway lobster is a langoustine. The cucumber ice-cream was more like a sorbet and very crisp and fresh with the crustacean. Yummy. A cheese platter with homemade jams finished the meal. Pity it didn't come with little info cards so that we didn't know where the cheese came from or its names. We could only identify it as a soft cheese (camembert of sorts), a hard cheese (like an emmental) and a pungent cube that was complex but much nicer than a Roquefort or a Blue Stilton.

Karl Johans Gate

I suppose I have to walk down the main street of Oslo and see what it's all about. Karl Johans gate. Surrounding this 'main street' are the Royal Palace, Stortinget (their Parliament house), the Oslo Cathedral, the National Theatre and all that. Headed out on a sunny day and took the not-too-crowded train downtown and dropped off at Stortinget station. What a warm day. Walked and walked and felt really pleased.

Acquaintances mentioned that shopping in Norway isn't fantastic. That's awesome. I'm not here to shop. Why oh why would I want to hang around a mall?! There's so much outdoors, green and love. I didn't care for the shops around Karl Johans gate. Maybe I might feel different if I live here. I didn't mind staying outside to look up at the buildings and admire their windows. Some gorgeous architecture dot downtown Oslo.

Also needed to pop into a telco store to grab a data-SIM card that I forgot to buy at the airport. Not that easy to stumble upon a Telenor or a Netcom. Grrrr. I had such a good time soaking up the vibes and sounds of downtown Oslo. Fun enough for an afternoon of checking out the sights.

Folketeateret. This would be a great place to hang out when it's hosting plays.

Roasted A Leg of Lamb

The girlfriend is determined to put me to work in the kitchen. She is commanding me to marinate, slice and dice. Those I can do. At least she hasn't abandoned me to a meal prep on my own, yet. If she does, I'll just order take-out. Heheheh.

We usually have light cold lunches and a heavier hot dinner. Tonight was just the two of us, so the portions were less than usual. We popped by the supermarket to grab the necessary ingredients. She had to pull me away because I kept lingering at the shelves. So many exciting sauces and stuff I don't use often or can't use because it isn't available at home on a regular basis.

Roasted a tiny leg of lamb with sides of grilled vegetables and sweet potatoes in foil. Had to sweat out the eggplant. When all the food's been done, the smells in the kitchen were so good. It's the tail-end of the season for lamb, so we simply grabbed whatever the supermarket had that looked all right. The lamb went swimmingly with polar birch jelly (polarbjørk gelé). Nydelig!

First Meal in Oslo

Most meals are taken at home. Told the girlfriend I'm quite easy to feed. What's more we're in Oslo where dining out isn't the practice, and eating out can burn a hole in the pocket. Norway has maintained top position on the Big Mac Index for years. Stepped into a Starbucks not to buy a coffee but to check out the prices of a cafe latte, grande size. It converted into S$9.50. Almost keeled over.

Took a look at some restaurants and the only reason why I would pay, would be to satisfy my curiosity about Norwegian produce and ingredients, less so for the skills of the chefs. Anyway, I'm being very well fed on this trip. The girlfriend has a fabulous touch in the kitchen. I could...ermm be a handy kitchen assistant. Fantastic weather to be cooking daily. We share similar tastebuds and I've put aside many dietary preferences to embrace a 'vacation diet'. Hurhurhur.

On our first day home, while we were not jet-lagged, we were a bit tired from the trip and beyond the unpacking of essentials, we couldn't really be of much help in the kitchen for dinner prep. The woman's first task of the afternoon was to grab a bunch of pastel dahlias to freshen up the house. Heh. My first visit, I rather not get in the way as her husband and her boys buzzed about in the kitchen and cooked us a brilliant 'welcome home' dinner. Such a thrill to have the not-so-little boys set the table, then come ask us if we would like red or white wine and how much wine to fill in our glasses.

Beautifully grilled main of duck that was pink in the centre.

Hei Oslo!

Made a snap decision and am finally in this part of the world. A long time ago, I was in Bergen for an intense work trip in summer. Super picturesque. Besides stealing two days out for a kayak trip at Hardangerfjord, nothing else was fun about those two weeks. This trip promises to be lovelier.

For ages, the girlfriend has been urging me to visit Oslo. I ignored her. Oof. So she was in Singapore visiting family, and finally, I followed her home. No better time than now. Plus she offered fast wifi for me to sort out work stuff over email this month. Oh perfect! People speak English. Communication isn't a problem, but reading stuff would be. I'm not going to be able to suddenly speak Norwegian. It's phonetically close enough to English but doesn't correspond. It's kinda tough to pronounce. I don't quite like picking it up in piecemeal phrases. Need an academic approach to understand grammar and syntax, then I can easily wing it. This is going to be exactly like French- something I read and write fluently (my O'level subject lah), but I refuse to speak it because I've an atrocious accent. :P

Rain greeted us upon landing. I hooted with laughter. I didn't bother packing for the trip till a day before departure simply because the weather is now unpredictable. The warm temperatures have been dropping and last I checked, the weather is exactly like what we have in London and Seattle. i.e rain rain rain rain rain rain. Hahahahah. How comforting. I've no problems walking around in the rain. A change of seasons is upon us. I can feel it. The blazing peak of summer has ebbed and there's a new mellow autumn cool in the air.

The Colors of Life

Earlier in the year, I attempted a few pages of Haruki Murakami's 'Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki - And His Years of Pilgrimage' in Japanese and gave up after a while. It was slow going; I had a problem with concepts and certain notions that my language abilities aren't strong enough to grasp. If I wanted to practise the language, I should have picked a simpler book. Grrrrr. Brilliantly translated by Philip Gabriel, this English version was indeed a faster read. (Reviews here, here, here and here.)

Protagonist is Tsukuru Tazaki and the story revolves around his relationship with his four friends in high school. The men are Aka (red) and Ao (blue), the women are Shiro (white) and Kuro (black). The protagonist is supposed to be 'colorless Tsukuru' after all. They didn't remain friends after high school. Decades separated them and Tsukuru never knew why he was rejected from the group. His new girlfriend Sara realized that he was still living in the past, and his current self was an empty shell. She called time on their relationship, found his high school friends and made him re-visit the people, the cities of Nagoya, Tokyo and to Finland; unearthing buried secrets and clarifying misguided realities.

Don't want to talk much about this book. Spoilers lah. Go read it. I'm not the biggest Murakami fan. I think this constitutes as a 'trendy' read for me simply because the friends read it and I want to know what they're gushing over. Heh. Well, I'm neutral about this book. Not particularly fond of it, but don't hate it either. It's less surreal than his other works. Much easier to relate to. Again, it's not a genre I'm fond of. So there. All I know is, I can't get Franz Liszt's 'Années de pèlerinage' out of my head. Three movements, six minutes each. A good workout. Well it's piece I don't mind hammering out on the piano because it's got manageable sharps and flats. Hurhurhur.

Our lives are like a complex musical score, Tsukuru thought. Filled with all sorts of cryptic writing, sixteenth and thirty-second notes and other strange signs. It's next to impossible to correctly interpret these, and even if you could, and then could transpose them into the correct sounds, there's no guarantee that people could correctly understand, or appreciate the meaning therein. No guarantee it would make people happy. Why must the workings of people's lives be so convoluted? 

Make sure you hang on to Sara, Eri had told him. You really need her. You don't lack anything. Be confident and bold. That's all you need. 

And don't let the bad elves get you.

Happy 49th Singapore!

If intense discussion marks civil society, then I wish this to be an ongoing Conversation. What an exciting year it has been. Last year the government asked for our thoughts. We aren't going to just give the politically-correct answers. We will raise questions too. I'm very conscious when I use 'we'. In this context, 'we' simply represents the ideas and opinions of faeriefolk and intimates, people whom I know well.

2015 is going to be interesting- the nation-state marks half a century of independence, and it's also the crucial time frame before the next General Election. If there's any sort of agenda, then this is it- a Conversation that does not just reflect community norms. There isn't just one community in the country. There are many, and no community should decide social practices or social norms. The rule of law and secularism do that.

Then we must be grateful for the peace in this region. Our independence and current climate of efficiency and peace are hard-won and worth much to defend. No day in 2014 has passed by without the headlines of bombings, war and needless deaths. Gratitude is one thing; to trade it for unquestioning subservience is another. Patriotism is a separate matter.

Icons. We'd love to preserve those that the communities vote for and love; not those that the government deems necessary to aid economic development and how society should flow according to current social policies. If so, then we're doomed to be nothing more than docile economic digits with thoughts that can never be voiced aloud. I'm glad we don't have an insipid National Day song for 2014. No song. Zero songs. Hurrah to Lush 99.5FM playing nothing but music by Singapore artists today.

Happy 49th, Singapore.

'One Singapore', Singapore Icons. By Democratic Society X Kihara.
Designed by Pearlyn Sim and Lim Ting.

Late Summer Picks

There's really not much point to frequenting the favorite Japanese restaurants in the same season. Once around the block would be enough, then I'd stick to boring staples. The initial eats would be cool. Nice to see how the chefs interpret the ingredients. The presentation will always be different. I like how the respective chefs add their personal touches to each plate. Now that we're moving into late summer, seasonal picks have shifted. It's makan-time at Hashida Sushi with the peeps!

The sushi counter is interesting in how it's rather social, but should we choose to, a party could always keep to ourselves and our allocated chef and find privacy within our conversations so long we don't shout and keep comments below the general frequency of chatter. It was a crowded evening at the restaurant, but our party of four found privacy along the counter and totally enjoyed dinner.

The fish, as usual, was sterling. Nodoguro (ノドグロ) or the blackthroat sea perch was delicious. My favorite kinmedai (金目鯛) or golden sea bream seemed extra sweet. Loads of kohada (コハダ) for me. Yummy. The small shinko was tasty. The gari (ガリ) was different. They used shin-shōga (新生姜). Refreshing. Nasu (ナス) and cucumber tataki abound. The celebration of seasons, the excitement in the changes of menu that keeps the palate interested. Kisetsukan (季節感じては). A sense of the seasons, an appreciation of the bountiful treasures the oceans provide, and a reminder of how stocks are dwindling.

Late Lobster Dinner

I borrowed a work desk from the friend's office. Needed an unfamiliar work space in a structured environment for two days. Worked late. B was in her office on a late night too. She arranged to pick me up for a late dinner. Thought we might do drinks instead and snack. When work is this intense, sometimes we rather chug a beer than eat. Once B swung by and we were on the road, we finally felt peckish. Went looking for food.

Something casual. Too many formalities at work. Didn't want to deal with those again during our personal time. The Grandstand was nearest to us. Avoided the crazy queues at Dancing Crab. We wanted something lighter in terms of sauces and cooking style. Preferably to sit down somewhere quieter. Went to the section at the back of Pasarbella- Oceans of Seafood. Plenty of choices. Before we got there, we passed by the beer shop and each chugged a bottle of pale ale. Hurhurhur.

We were hungry, but not starving. Carbs were already taken from the beer. The adrenalin from thinking about all that work oddly kept us kinda full. Apparently, B didn't bother with lunch, and stole just one slice of bread from her secretary. In the end, we decided to share a small steamed Boston lobster and bamboo clams. Enough for us. Dinner for two, late, easy, quick and satisfying.

Girls' Night Out at Ki-sho

One of Chef Kazuhiro Hamamoto's signature dish of Murasaki uni with vinegar jelly,
edamame, sweet corn and Oscietra caviar on a zuiki (ずいき) leaf.

It has been a long long time since I stepped into Ki-sho (葵匠). It must have been a full year. No better time than to check in with a bunch of girlfriends for a celebratory meal. When I say 'celebratory', I don't mean a special occasion of sorts. It wasn't anyone's birthday or anything. It was a spontaneous celebration of friendships, health, blessings and life.

I've completely forgotten Ki-sho's flavors. Nice to see the bit of tweaks to the menu and still have signature dishes presented. Luckily we decided to share a 720ml bottle of sake and didn't go crazy on the alcohol. Driving lah. The sake was enough to complement the food. The girls were hilarious. They knew I wasn't familiar with Ki-sho's menu by now, except for the seasonal pickings. But they were certain I knew the sake menu. They left the choice of sake in my hands. "Whatever." They breezily said. Fine. I ordered a whatever-junmai-daiginjo that turned out quite good.

What a wonderful night of laughter and conversation. A long dinner that certainly didn't feel dragged-out. We were the last to leave the sushi counter. Best. Made all the noise we wanted. Left the restaurant with satiated bellies.

This World

Flounced out to buy Dave Eggers' 'Your Fathers, Where Are They? And The Prophets, Do They Live Forever?' I know, I've that unread pile waiting. It's probably going to be waiting forever. Doesn't matter. One can always do with a new book.

Anyway, this one. Plenty of references to Zechariah, the minor prophet who wrote after the fall of Jerusalem, and the thirty-eighth book of The Old Testament- Zechariah 1:5. The author turns into the voice of a prophet trying to reflect social ills through Thomas, a troubled man in his dialogue with people he kidnapped. (Reviews here, here, here, here, and here.)

Thomas has a conversation with Mac, a congressman who lost his arms in the Vietnam War due to a mundane reason of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and not because of the enemy or friendly fire. Thomas forces the captives to engage in a conversation with him about their views of American policies from space programs, wars to finances and police brutality. He abducted Kev- a maybe-scientist-astronaut-hopeful, a policeman, a hospital administrator, Mr Hansen- his sixth-grade teacher, his mother, a woman he imagined to be a potential lover. The book is supposed to be provocative, commenting on the social and military policies America adopts. Thomas says "But couldn't we just sell bonds to pay for Social Security, education for all, college for all? I mean, everyone wrings their hands about cutting or saving some microscopic government program, and Where oh where will be get the money? - but then we turn around and there's a billion dollars for Afghani warlords. I mean, I know I'm stupid not to understand this, but I don't." 

The entire book moved like a dialogue. While it could get confusing, it isn't that which rattled the mind. It's Thomas' tone. The writer brilliant switches his tone as he talks to the captives, all whom have been separately locked up and interrogated. Thomas swings between being an astute observer, a psychotic killer-to-be and generally being a clinically depressed human. It's the writer's bid to represent all voices in the society clamoring to be heard.

- Do you know why you're here?
- No. Are you going to hurt me?
- No. But I need answers quick. There isn't much time left.
- Okay.
- You know the hospital where I found you - were you working there in 2012?
- Yes.
- What is your position there?
- I'm the director of patient access.
- Good. Good. That's what I thought.
- How did you get me here?
- You remember getting into the elevator down to the garage?
- Yes. That was you.
- Yes. Then chloroform and a thirty-minute drive. You were the easiest, next to my mom. Now listen. Some people have been here for days, so this has to be quick. Do you remember Don Banh?

N's Healing Well!

The hospital tray.
Looked like an instant TV meal.

Happy to see N on the mend after surgery. The first few days were of course worrying. It was comforting to see that she wanted food at mealtimes. A smaller but not diminished appetite. But hospital food is always eeky. Healthy, yeah, but not the best in terms of enticing patients to eat.

I wasn't going to attempt to boil her soup. She's a fabulous cook and baker. I'm not confident my 'skills' will pass her tastebuds. Luckily the hospital is so near Paragon mall where Crystal Jade Golden Palace is. It's a restaurant the family frequents; the servers and the chefs know us. I suppose anyone could just tapau food. But since they know me because I uhhh always terrorize them, these few days, I've been calling ahead to place special orders for food for N. They were more than happy to oblige.

Dunno, but I think Asian food is great for convalescing patients. Loads of colors and options to play around with when there's no desire for carbs. No biggie. Vitamins and nutrition can be gleaned from stir-fried green vegetables and loads of double-boiled soups. Fish too. Plenty of tiny pieces of the freshest fish. Chicken essence extracted into soups, shark bone stock, fish maw, cordyceps, goji berries, red dates, dried mushrooms and the sorts. A bowl of soup fills up the stomach nicely. N isn't fussy about vegetables. As long as they're the usual stir-fried Asian greens, she eats them. Yay. Pleased to see her walking around on her own and getting stronger everyday.

Slowdive

This is one of those obscure little bands that the man listened to as a teenager and got all emo. Well, I don't even know them at all. o.O Might of heard of them, but nothing registered when I was told tickets had been bought for Slowdive in Singapore. Oddly, I've heard the songs of the band in their incarnation as Mojave 3. Saw the name Slowdive when I scanned the line-up for Primavera 2014. I didn't listen to any songs they have, didn't even scramble to youtube their songs before the gig. The friends did their best not to roll their eyes when I said that. Hahahahaha.

Shoegaze or nu-gaze aren't genres I understand. Although I like My Bloody Valentine. But I dunno if that's considered shoegaze; there're more distortion pedals going on than anything else. So I know nothing about Slowdive prior to its gig in Singapore. Never mind, it was fun checking out a totally-new-to-me-band. I thought their sound could have been less muffled and better mixed, but whatever. I suppose it was a compromise between their tech rider and what was available. It certainly didn't make me feel enveloped in a wall of sound. The band definitely gained a new fan base when they re-formed in 2014. Didn't realize they have so many fans in Singapore until I heard the joyful screaming.

I suppose in a way all emo songs do, they stir emotions, especially those that have been hidden. Something struck me as I was swaying to Slowdive's encore of 'Dagger' and 'Alison'. From third album Souvlaki released in 1993, 'Alison' was slightly more like the alt-Brit-rock I'm familiar with. These guys on stage are our age, 40-somethings. It's amazing how they've kept at this music thing. For Slowdive, they picked up right where they left off, 20 years ago. Woah. We're getting older. Our music preferences have shifted and yet stayed true. I dunno if the next generation will laugh at us for reminiscing about Metallica like the way we tease baby-boomers about ABBA and Queen.