The visitor will never forget the first contact with the Northern world. The painful beauty of the landscape, the incredible pureness of the air, the water and even the light will be perceived as a dream of a never fully understood existence, the mere tip of an artistic and cultural iceberg.
For those of us arriving from Copenhague, the main Scandinavian metropolis, Oslo might at first glance look like a rather provincial city. Its every day life does not have almost anything of the tumult that characterizes the other great European capitals. On the contrary, the less than half a million inhabitants that cover, geographically speaking, an area of about five hundred square kilometres, do not often descend in large numbers in the streets of their city. Except for the few main streets, the visitor will be surprised by the degree of emptiness that can be seen around. There is no trace of the crowds so usual in London, Paris or even Bucharest.
The real life of this city is lived at a different level, while the apparent surface tranquility can be misleading. Just like the alleged coldness of the people from the North, because, in fact, beyond the appearances, beyond the Calvinist discipline promoted by all the institutions of the state and largely supported by society, the Norwegians are a surprisingly warm and friendly people. Irresistible by the sometimes heavenly beauty of their blue eyes, they live the extremes of passion just like the people from the South do, who are perhaps better known for their volcanic temperament.
The contrast between the public image and the private one becomes an even sharper one when and if you manage to get deeper in the private or even intimate life of the inhabitants. If you manage to go beyond the fa?ade, if you do not fall easy prey to the rigid principles and sometimes strict rules imposed and accepted more or less willingly by the Norwegians, then and only then will you begin to see the real panorama of the society of their country.
Beyond the closed doors that are so sparklingly clean, beyond the aseptic atmosphere imposed to the common tourists, finally, beyond the wall of silence that you have to escalate if you really want to get to know these people, what is awaiting you there is truly worth the effort.
Because the joy of discovering this universe of its own is much greater when the respective effort has been exhausting. If you manage to get beyond those closed doors, if you are received and accepted into the private life of these contemporary Vikings, then you can truly regard yourself as a lucky guy. This way, you have access not only to the painting-like transparence of Scandinavia, but also to the heart of its people, and their heart will begin beating in harmony with yours. You will be able to admire not only the tumult of their mountain waterfalls, but also the torrent of feelings you awaken in the heart of your interlocutors. You will live to the hilt the adventure of a lifetime, if you have the courage and the strength to make the first step. If you break the public image into pieces, in order to discover the magical inner element of truth, that is hidden inside, like an ancient insect in a grain of amber.
You will also feel like laughing, again and again, at the comments made by some tourists in front of the statues in Vigeland’s Park, while the official guide keeps telling them that fashion is ephemeral, while walking or simply hanging around in the nude will always be fashionable.
Indifferent to such academic distinctions, the natural beauty of the North retains its note of impenetrable mystery, sometimes stunningly captured in the music of Grieg or Sibelius. The mesmerizing scent of the forests you have not yet crossed both attracts and frightens you at the same time. Therefore it might be perhaps preferable for you to go back to the sun-bathed rocks on the wild beach, side by side with the nude splendour of the young bodies lying there, thirsting like you for warmth and affection, enjoying themselves in the stunning light and ever-breaking waves of Norway.
Bucharest, 17 August 1995
(Published at the time in Romanian in a currently out of print cultural magazine in Bucharest.)