Ahh, my first morning in Oslo, and I’ve already gotten lost on public transit for hours and climbed up icy hills to find my hostel, where I got stuck in a time warp for another three hours. But then I ate lunch and time went back to its usual pace. Probably a positive thing.
Now, I’m finally on my way out of the hostel. It’s been a really long morning. Or night. Or both. I’m taking the tram back down to Oslo City Center, a welcome respite from the T-Bane line 5 where I had gotten lost for hours that morning. Why not get some sunlight on the tram? And the lady at the front desk of my hostel recommended I take the tram, so why not. She also explained that I should take the path back down the steep hill I came up, but then keep following the path around the outside of the park, not through the park (or across soccer fields in the park, for that matter).
Leaving my hostel, I’m very glad not to be trying to cut through anything, and I know where I’m going this time. As far as the park is concerned. After that I’m not precisely sure what I’m doing or where I’m going. Somewhere. That much I know. First things first. I have to go back down this icy hill. My angry oversized luggage is stuck back at the hostel where it can’t kill me, so at least I don’t have to worry about its violent temperament this time around.
Going down the icy hill proved to be a little more unsettling than going up the hill, but my Sorel winter snow boots for women (read my review here) did not disappoint. I made it down the hill without incident, only to realize I had not quite understood exactly where the nearest tram stop was. I knew it was down the hill somewhere, so when I ran into some above ground tracks, I assumed they were tram tracks and I followed them around the park (not through the park, I think we’ve covered our park prepositions for today). Luckily, I assumed correctly, and the tram tracks led to a tram stop. Funny how that works, isn’t it?
Perhaps unsurprisingly at this point, given my utter confusion with the directionality of Norwegian transit, finding the tram stop was only the beginning of “Emily’s Tram Time,” a subsection of the volume called, “Emily Takes Public Transit in Oslo,” part of which you’ve already read, but all of which is only a piece of the greater anthology, “Emily’s Dastardly Disastrous Adventures on Norwegian Public Transit.” We’ll get there. But for now, back to Emily’s Tram Time. Let’s set the scene.
<<Emily is at the tram stop, studying yet even more digital screen displays about tram lines and arrival times. Her eyes are narrowed; she’s trying to figure out wtf is going on in her life. Forget the tram. Annnnd action!>>
The lady at the front desk of the hostel had tried to prep me for Emily’s Tram Time. She specifically told me to take either tram #11 or #12 to “Jernbanetorgetafix” (all I can think about when I see this name is “Jernbanetor-GetaFix.” Anyone a fan of Asterix and Obelix? His name is Get-a-Fix. Get it?), which is not true, she told me to go to “Jernbanetorget,” but who’s going to remember that mouthful on their first day in Norway?
Regardless, I couldn’t figure out which direction I was supposed to take the tram in to get to Jernbanetorget. Luckily, the tram wasn’t coming for at least another eight minutes, so I crossed the tram tracks back and forth about three times before settling on the right direction (it turned out). The first tram that pulls up is not #11 or #12. Ruter, the Oslo public transit app, is telling me that this tram will take me back to Oslo City Center, but it wasn’t one of the trams the lady at my hostel told me to take. By now I’m a little tired of trying to understand what Ruter is telling me. It’s time to get up close and personal with the new man in my life—the tram driver. One of the nice things about being a solo female tourist is that most people want to help you. The tram driver was no exception.
The tram pulls up to the stop. There are two doors on the tram. I can tell, very clearly, that you are not supposed to enter the tram by the door next to the driver at the front. It was extremely obvious because that door didn’t open. I needed to know though, before I got on the tram, does this tram go to Asterix and Obelix town?? I made some indication to the driver that I needed to talk to him. He opened the door next to him and looks at me expectantly. I say,
“Hi, I’m waiting for the #11 or the #12, which tram is this?” I knew that tram wasn’t the #11 or the #12, but for some reason knowing what the fuck tram he was driving was more important than knowing if the tram went to Oslo City Center.
He says, “This is #17, but where are you trying to go?”
“Jernban . . . Jern . . .”
“Oh you mean, Jernbanetorget? I go there too, you don’t have to wait for the #11 or the #12.”
“Oh that’s perfect, thank you so much,” and I start to turn toward the middle door of the tram that’s still open. He calls out to me,
“No, you can just get on here,” and he motions to the door next to him.
“Oh, thank you so much.” I give him an enormous smile, I’m so grateful. I’ve already gotten lost three times today, so I am ready for some help. He just saved my day and whatever was left of my mind. People helping people all over the world. And look how easy that was: I knew I needed help with directions, so I asked for some help with directions, and then I allowed myself to receive help with said directions. And the door. Sometimes when you ask for help you get more help than you were even asking for. I highly recommend asking for help.
The tram is an absolutely beautiful way to get around Oslo. You can see outside and frankly, it’s just fun to ride. I’m thoroughly enjoying myself. I’m outdoor watching, I’m people watching, I’m stop watching, basically there was a lot of watching being done and I was doing it. While all this watching is going on, I’m also trying to keep track of the stops we’re making and remember what Asterix and Obelix town is actually called. “J” something . . . . I’m pretty sure I know which stop is mine, but when we pull up the driver looks at me through his review mirror and says, “this is your stop.”
“Thank you!” I call back. This time I make it out through the middle doors. After I get off the tram, I turn to the driver and wave at him through the plexiglass door at the front. He smiles and waves back. “I could live here,” I think to myself. Still waiting on that dream to come true, but there are more Norway adventures to get through first.