A serendipitous search on minimalism and Nordic life led me to a new podcast on life in Norway had just dropped. I was busy declogging our bathroom sink when the episode lingered on something simple but strangely magnetic: the midnight sun. The idea that in summer, the sun refuses to fully leave, stretching light across the day as if time itself had softened its edges.
What stuck with me most wasn’t just the romance of endless daylight, but the way Norwegians are protective about it. After months of darkness in winter, the summer light was something to be guarded and enjoyed properly.
Just this morning, news broke that Norway national football team had just knocked out Brazil in the 2026 World Cup, with the kind of headline that felt half-real at first glance. And of course, the story carried the inevitable weight of Erling Haaland, the name that now seems permanently attached to any Norwegian football fairytale ride with the Viking row getting more momentum as they progressed to the next round.
It had been ten years since that trip, since we first started planning our journey to Norway.
Back then, we were still figuring out how to make travel fit around the edges of work and life. We applied for our visa at the Finnish consulate in Central Hong Kong. I remember the process more vividly than I probably should. It wasn’t easy, especially when you’re on a freelance career, already deep into what felt like the ninth year of piecing together work, time, and income in unpredictable ways.
Freelancing had its contradictions. It made planning difficult, but it also made escape to distant lands easier. My wife, working in education, had something far more structured and generous—proper holidays, planned breaks, real windows of time where the world could be stepped into rather than squeezed around.
And so Norway became one of those carefully chosen windows.
Even then, I had already written about it once before. But the story of some places don’t feel finished after one telling.
This time, the journey began properly on 19 July 2016.
We flew out of Hong Kong, a city that always feels like it has more departure gates than pauses. The first leg took us from Hong Kong to Doha—about 8 hours and 30 minutes in the air. Then, after that brief pause in Doha, burping from that Hindu meal I always order during long-haul flights came the longer stretch: another 6 hours and 40 minutes onward, bound for Oslo.
We landed at Oslo Gardermoen Airport just after noon.
For an airport that serves as Norway’s busiest gateway, Gardermoen felt remarkably calm. In the middle of summer, natural light streamed effortlessly through its expansive glass walls, making the terminal feel open rather than overwhelming. There were no blaring announcements or frantic crowds rushing from one gate to another. Everything seemed to move with quiet confidence.
Stepping outside, the first thing we noticed wasn’t a landmark—it was the air.
It was crisp, clean, and carried the scent of pine trees. Beyond the airport stretched forests and open skies, an immediate reminder that Norway doesn’t need flashy first impressions. Its tourism slogan, “Powered by Nature,” suddenly didn’t feel like marketing copy at all. It simply described what was already there.
Unlike some of our previous trips, we didn’t know anyone in Norway.
Our only local connection was our Airbnb host, Chris, who had been wonderfully responsive after confirming our booking. Before we even boarded the flight, he had thoughtfully sent us a guide to the neighbourhood.
“Close to our apartment in Parkveien you will find the street Hegdehaugsveien going upwards and being connected with Bogstadveien. The Norwegian word ‘veien’ means street. Both of these streets are nice for shopping or just a good walk. At the top you will come to an intersection at the part of Oslo named Majorstua. From Majorstua it is a short walk to Vigeland Sculpture Park.”
Looking back, I appreciate messages like these more than recommendations from guidebooks.
A local isn’t just telling you where to go—they’re quietly introducing you to the rhythm of their city. Even explaining that veien simply means “street” somehow made the place feel a little less foreign. Those little cultural details are what make travelling a genuine learning experience, provided you’re willing to stay curious.
Besides, we’d handled more challenging situations before.
We’d checked into a hotel in Florence where almost no one at reception spoke English. We’d wandered through freezing winter streets in Budapest trying to locate Tibor, the innkeeper, whose accommodation seemed to disappear into the darkness.
Compared to those adventures, collecting a set of apartment keys in Oslo sounded straightforward.
Or so we thought.
As our arrival got closer, I found myself sending Chris and his partner a series of messages—questions that, in hindsight, probably had obvious answers buried somewhere in the Airbnb instructions.
Eventually, one of my follow-up messages received a rather blunt reply.
“We sent you info that we will be away and you need to get the keys with our neighbors. We also asked you to read all info in our house manual here at Airbnb. How can you then possible misunderstand all this much?”
Fair enough.
After a long flight, I was probably overthinking everything and asking questions that had already been answered. They were away, expecting us to follow the instructions they’d carefully prepared, while I kept looking for reassurance.
Our first interaction in Norway wasn’t exactly the warm Scandinavian welcome I had imagined.
Still, travel has a funny way of rewarding persistence.
A bit of improvisation, a few wrong turns, and some determined problem-solving later, we eventually located the right building, collected the keys, and finally let ourselves into what would be our home for the next few days.
Crisis over.
After unpacking and freshening up, we headed straight back outside.
The neighbourhood immediately felt inviting. The weather was pleasantly warm without being hot, and parks seemed to appear around every corner. We found an empty bench, sat down with no real agenda, and simply enjoyed the sunshine. Coming from densely packed Hong Kong, having so much open green space felt like a luxury.
It didn’t take long to notice another unmistakable sign of the summer of 2016.
Groups of teenagers were scattered throughout the park, phones held high, walking in strange zigzags before suddenly gathering in clusters. Some were laughing, others pointing excitedly at their screens.
Pokémon GO had only recently been released, and Oslo, like much of the world, had fully caught the fever.
It was oddly fascinating to watch. Here we were, halfway across the world, sitting in a peaceful Norwegian park, while hundreds of people were enthusiastically chasing virtual creatures through very real Scandinavian greenery.
Sometimes it’s these little snapshots that end up becoming the strongest memories of a trip.
Walking around Oslo felt easy and practical rather than exhausting. Sidewalks were wide, parks were well maintained, and most neighbourhoods were connected by trams, buses, and the metro. Public transport was clean, punctual, and simple to use, although it was noticeably more expensive than what we were used to in Hong Kong.
Food was one of the clearest reminders that Norway is an expensive country. A casual café meal, a simple sandwich, or even groceries from a supermarket cost significantly more than in most of Europe. We quickly learned to balance eating out with buying food from supermarkets, which many travellers seem to do.
What stood out most was how people used the summer. Parks were full, waterfronts were busy, and many locals spent long hours outdoors walking, cycling, picnicking, or simply sitting in the sun. After months of darker winters, summer seemed to be treated as something to enjoy fully rather than stay indoors from.
One of our first major visits was Vigeland Sculpture Park. The scale surprised us more than the sculptures themselves at first. Paths stretched through a large green park filled with bronze and granite figures showing people of different ages and emotions. Families, tourists, and locals moved slowly through the grounds, and it felt more like a public space that people genuinely used than a fenced-off attraction.
We later visited the Oslo Opera House, where the unusual sloping roof allowed people to walk all the way to the top for views of the harbour. The building felt open and accessible rather than formal. Another highlight was the Munch Museum, where seeing Edvard Munch’s works in person gave much more context than simply knowing The Scream from books and the internet. Together, these places showed a side of Oslo that was modern, artistic, and deeply connected to everyday public life.
One reason we chose an Airbnb instead of a hotel was the spacious kitchen. Rather than eating every meal at restaurants—where the prices were high and the local menu might not even suit our tastes—we decided to cook for ourselves. It turned out to be one of the best decisions of the trip.
Our neighbourhood supermarket quickly became REMA 1000, where we stocked up on essentials like eggs, bread, cheese, vegetables, milk, and fruit. Preparing simple breakfasts and dinners helped stretch our budget while giving us a glimpse into everyday life in Norway. Even something as ordinary as drinking water felt different. The tap water was remarkably cold and fresh, making me wonder just how icy it must become during the long winter months.
Back at the apartment, we settled into a surprisingly normal evening. Rhodylyn had just discovered Korean dramas and was ready for a binge-watching session whenever we had downtime. She carried on with her usual routine while I sorted through the hundreds of photos we had already taken. Neither of us paid much attention to the time.
Eventually, I glanced at the clock.
It was already 8:00 p.m.
I looked out the window and instinctively thought the clock must be wrong. The sun was still shining brightly, and the light outside looked more like three o’clock in the afternoon than early evening. We had finally experienced what everyone talks about when they describe the Norwegian summer.
The extended daylight quietly altered our sense of time. Even more surprising, neither of us felt particularly hungry despite it being well past our usual dinner hour. Without the visual cue of sunset, our bodies seemed to lose track of the day as easily as our watches had not.
After another full day exploring Oslo, including visits to the City Hall and the Royal Palace, it was time to leave the capital and head for what many consider Norway’s most scenic city: Bergen.
Rather than flying, we chose the classic route aboard Vy, Norway’s national railway, as part of the famous Norway in a Nutshell journey. The train ride from Oslo to Myrdal takes around five hours and is often regarded as one of the most beautiful railway journeys in the world. The carriages were clean, spacious, and remarkably quiet, with comfortable seats and large panoramic windows designed for enjoying the scenery.
As the train climbed away from Oslo, the landscape gradually transformed from forests and farmland into mountain plateaus dotted with lakes, rivers, and small villages. It was the kind of journey where passengers spent more time looking out the window than at their phones.
At Myrdal, we transferred to the legendary Flåm Railway, a spectacular one-hour descent through steep valleys, waterfalls, and dramatic mountain scenery to the village of Flåm. From there, the Norway in a Nutshell route continued with a ferry through the UNESCO-listed Nærøyfjord and Aurlandsfjord before a bus ride connected us to Voss. The final leg was another train that eventually brought us to Bergen. It was a long day of changing between trains, ferry, and bus, but every transfer felt purposeful. Rather than simply travelling between two cities, the journey itself was the attraction.
By the time we reached Bergen, it was evening, although the lingering summer daylight made it feel much earlier. Our Airbnb host, Stein Ove, had thoughtfully arranged for the keys to be collected, so checking in was effortless even though we never met him in person. His apartment on Lars Hilles gate would be our home for the next three days, and after settling in, it immediately felt comfortable enough to unwind after a full day on the move.
Despite the long journey, we still had plenty of daylight left. Instead of heading straight back out, we took advantage of the quiet evening to relax in the apartment. Coincidentally, it was also the day of the inauguration of Rodrigo Duterte as President of the Philippines. We found ourselves watching the ceremony on our laptops from an Airbnb in Bergen.
The next day in Bergen was spent mostly on foot, moving between the old town, the harbour, and the surrounding hills. We started early at Bryggen, the historic wharf area that dates back to the Hanseatic League trading era.
The wooden buildings, tightly packed and slightly leaning in places, form one of the most recognisable sights in Norway. Behind the colourful facades are narrow alleyways, timber structures, and small shops that still follow the old layout from centuries ago. It’s now a UNESCO World Heritage Site, but it still functions as a working part of the city, not just a preserved museum piece.
From Bryggen, we continued walking through the harbour area and slowly made our way toward the lower hiking paths leading into the surrounding hills. Bergen is surrounded by seven mountains, and even a short walk quickly takes you into steep, forested terrain. We chose a manageable trail that led upward through gravel paths and quiet pine sections, occasionally opening up to views of the fjord, the city rooftops, and the harbour where ferries move in and out all day. The hike wasn’t technical, but the incline was steady enough to make the city feel far away within minutes.
One interesting detail about Bergen is how often it rains—it’s one of the wettest cities in Europe, with rainfall on more than 200 days a year. Locals are used to it, and it shapes everything from architecture to daily routines. So when it wasn’t raining during our visit, I’d say it’s a miracle.
After the hike, we wandered back down toward Bryggen again, this time noticing smaller details we missed earlier the narrow passageways between buildings, the uneven wooden floors, and the way the entire district feels like it’s been carefully rebuilt multiple times after fires throughout history. Despite that, it still retains a sense of continuity, as if the city has simply learned how to rebuild itself in the same shape again and again.
The return journey from Bergen to Oslo was direct and uninterrupted on NSB (now Vy), taking us back across the same dramatic inland landscapes we had crossed earlier in reverse. The fare was 1,378 NOK, and we opted for NSB Komfort, which simply meant slightly wider, more comfortable seats and a quieter carriage—nothing luxurious, but enough to make the long stretch of travel easier as forests, lakes, and mountain plateaus slowly gave way again to the outskirts of the capital.
Back in Oslo, we didn’t venture far beyond the neighbourhood of Tøyen, where our accommodation was located. It felt more residential and grounded compared to the central districts, with local parks, apartment blocks, and everyday city life continuing without the need for sightseeing. After days of constant movement, it was enough to simply settle back into routine and observe the city from a quieter corner.
Looking back at the trip, what stood out was not just the places we visited, but how easily Norway shifted between structure and openness—efficient transport, accessible nature, and long summer days that distorted our sense of time. It was a country that made movement simple, but also made you slow down without trying.
At some point, I had jokingly told Rhodylyn: what if we go from Oslo, Norway to Oslob, Cebu? A small wordplay, but one that stayed with us longer than expected. We laughed about it then, but like most travel ideas, it lingered quietly in the background—waiting for another story, another season, another decision.