A Saturday stroll around Bjørvika, Oslo.
I’ve really been enjoying my time in Oslo. I’ve found a coffee shop I love (Tim Wendelboe); I love the apartment I’m renting; I’m finding some favorite spots to swim.
It’s also been a beautiful summer, and I’ve often wished I was carrying my swimtrunks with me so that I could go for an impromptu dip. It’s something I get a little better at but I’m still not batting 1000 by the time I leave.
Tonight I have dinner reservations at Maaemo, a three-star Michelin restaurant near the Munch museum. It’s the one splurge meal I’ve planned while I’m in Norway.
I consider spending the afternoon at the museum before dinner, but it’s too beautiful outside to spend indoors and instead I decide to go for a walk around the area to work up my appetite.
Leaving the apartment I head south to Christian Frederiks plass, by the central transportation hub in Oslo. Trains terminate at Oslo Central Station, just to the side of the park, and a large bus hub sits at the other end. Restaurants and cafes spill out onto the plaza, abutting the mall attached to the station. Passing this park I keep considering whether to try a pizza place on the corner, but I never get around to it.
Continuing towards Bjørvika and the bay I get my first view of the Oslo Opera House and the Deichman Bjørvika, a beautiful public library with a stationery store and cafes on the ground floor.
The opera house is a beautiful structure, all angles with a glass front facing the water. Designed by the Norwegian architectural firm Snøhetta to resemble an iceberg, a photo of the building on the company’s website in winter exmplifies the concept. The building melds into the scenery, with ice floes floating right up to the plaza.
The design also incorporates the right to roam, an ancient custom protected by Norwegian law. Allemannsretten ensures the freedom to move throughout the countryside unrestricted, and the concept has been applied to the exterior of the building, with the roof sloping to create various plazas, allowing pedestrians access to almost the entire footprint of the building.
I climb the roof for the views out over the city and harbor. It’s an amazing public space and I’m far from the only person to be enjoying the late afternoon sun from its sloping space.
In the fjord floats She Lies, a sculpture of stainless steel and glass by Monica Bonvicini. A three-dimensional interpretation of Caspar David Friedrich's painting The Sea of Ice it depicts ice as a symbol of power in the region. From the artists’ statement:
The synthesis of structure/skin/ornament explore the interface between nature and culture, or that of a cultural artefact. While reconstructing a famous Romantic painting, the work represents in a visual striking way the shape of an iceberg, as if one would have, by circumstances due to the global warming, ended up in the fjord in front of the opera house.
Coincidentally, years ago I had used the painting on a book cover that I designed for St. Martin’s Press, ages ago.
I walk on the roof over the opera house towards the Munch Museum, admiring the views in all directions. People sit and sunbathe on the slopes, the angle almost perfect for supporting oneself whether upright or lying down.
On the other side of the opera house I stroll along the Operastranda, a public beach opened in 2021 with families in mind. A sandy, shallow area has been set aside for small children with a deeper adult area lined with stones constructed on the other end. The only swimmers are ducks, but it’s another place I file away in my mind to return to with a bathing suit.
Walking around the beach and then towards the Munch museum I cross the Oda Krohgs bro to the other side of another promontory. Another swimming facility, the Badplass, sports platforms and a dock set beside the restaurants and apartment buildings. I’m immediately infatuated and my thoughts of swimming at the Operastranda are replaced with the desire to swim here. If only I had my bathing suit, I’d take a quick dip before dinner.
Walking around the neighborhood I encounter canals running between the homes reminiscent of a neighborhood I had once toured in Copenhagen on my first trip. It must be amazing to be able to live here and step out of your living room into the sea.
Arriving at Maaemo my coat is taken and I am lead downstairs to a sitting area reminiscent of a library and sat at a low table. The waiter verifies that I have no allergies and asks me what type I’d like. Sparkling, please.
He asks me if I’m interested in a glass of champagne to start. I am. He offers two and I choose the latter. He pauses. There’s a slight difference in price, he tells me before listing the price points. I opt for the first. He nods. To avoid any surprises at the end of the night. I tell him I appreciate it.
I’m served the first few snacks downstairs before being lead upstairs to the main dining room. The waiter tells me about the beverage pairings before we alight. I’m not sure I can do five glasses; he tells me they can do light pours. Perfect.
As the meal gets underway, I delight in the sauces; first the amazingly delicate creamy but light sauce that accompanies the oysters and then one paired with a Japanese custard. The arctic char is another standout. Finished at the table, the fish is incredibly light and delicately prepared.
The langoustine main is one of the best things I’ve eaten this year. (The claws are used in the first snack). There’s a great char on the surface, the meat is supertender, and it rests in another fantstic sauce. The chef tells me they’ve spent five years working on the dish, working to really dial it in. They’ve done a fantastic job.
The quail had been presented before the char dish, but before it’s served I’m presented with a case of knives from which to choose. They’re handmade by Finn Schmidt and they’re beautiful. If ever I get married I’m going to put them on my wedding registry.
I hear the next table over exclaim when they’re given the choice. One of the guests had been trying to purchase a knife for a while but it’s nigh impossible with the limited number he produces. I choose one with a beautiful blue marbled handle.
The knife slips through the meat as though there’s nothing there, a testiment to the knife but also to how well the quail has been cooked. To call it tender is to understate its fine texture and the way in which it practically melts in the mouth, with just enough bite so that you know it’s there.
A series of desserts are brought to the table before I’m lead once again downstairs. They surprise me with a birthday cake (I had forgotten I had told them and also forgotten it’s still June) before the final three desserts arrive.
It’s almost 23h when I finish and opt to walk home. It’s still light outside and I make it home with light to spare. The summer in Olso is amazing. Happily sated and warm from the wine and the walk I imagine spending many summers here. It’s not hard to do. 🇳🇴
