“We blame Sascha!” goes the rallying cry.

What a pitiful pity we didn’t get to cycle five hundred kilometers! We are all very sad (apart from mama and daddy who hate cycling).

We are in Oslo after a ride on a big buff boat from Cops (Copenhagen). Great hostel we got to here where everything is not payant.

Had to go uphill for first time in days! We eat every few turn of the pedals (“oh that was like 365.2 mètres, we have done such excruciating exercise, we must eat”), also on a completely unrelated note, cinnamon buns are REALLY good. And Oslo fire engines are pretty cool. We know because the cafe caught fire while we were eating cinnamon buns.

Oslo is like a slightly altered Montpellier: it has trams and bakeries, and a whole bunch of French people (who must have tailed us to and from Cops). Every museum were in (Nansen museet) I see some tall blond people and hope to hear some Norsk, yet I receive nothing less then French! Dirty tourists. (Note: We’re not tourists).

Now we did an Obelix at this hostel, where we ate a buffet-wrap-dinner. I had four overly-stuffed wraps that overly-stuffed me! Then we ate dessert, adding (accidentally (kind of)) breakfast things such as puffed rice. Yums. (When I say yums I mean YUMS).  Eat it for breakfast tomorrow too.

Parentales told me to write about what I learned: so here goes:
1. That the danish are the danish and not the dutch, though they make dutch bikes, which is confusing.
2. That the danish have way WAY too many bikes which they dont lock well and leave nilly willy.
3. That the norsk word for speed is funny, and is written out in bold paint over main roads.
4. That Elliot can be mighty annoying (though this, I confess, I may already have had a hint of)
5. That I leant more things here in a few days than I would in 3 months and 7/8 ths in intensive school
6. That I cannot write forever.

[This is the end of part 1]
Såmuel

We visited the museums (meandered in maritime museum & wandered in War wuseum) and without pesky parents, and the cycling lanes were abundant and full – cycling was safe.

We wore no helmets or gilets jaunes to not appear as tourists  (note for mémé: that’s not actually true).