We arrived in Norway and walked out of the airport and into a queue for a one-hour coach trip to the centre of Oslo. Most of the passengers were tourists, like us, and didn’t have any change, only notes from the Bureau de Change. My girlfriend and I were at the back of the queue and by the time we got on board the driver was visibly disgruntled that we didn’t have the correct change. Before handing me my ticket he scribbled on the back of it in pencil and said, Show this when you come back and get your change. I knew this meant I wouldn’t get my change and took a seat on the coach. During the trip we passed many traditional Norwegian farmsteads that all looked like they had just been painted yesterday. By the side of the road on the motorway there were cascades of frozen ice. They were large, yellow and bulbous like giant fungus.

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