How did I end up here? July 21

Being the indecisive creature that I am, I am forever extending my stay at the hostel for another day or two, which in turn shuffles me around into different rooms. Yesterday, I found myself shuffled into my Australian friend's room, but I didn't realize that until this morning when I heard him shuffling around and asking some one else for the time. I believe the girl who answered was the person I nearly ran over in the dark of the middle of the night, coming out of the bathroom after I arrived late from where ever I was. I would tell you where I was, but I don't quite remember that far back and it didn't seem relevant when I recorded it in my journal, so don't worry about it.

As I came out of the heavy sleep inertia that makes less then brilliant in the morning and looked about my new room, a cozy six bed room with a small kitchenette and bathroom, I saw there were five of us bunked together. Besides my Australian friend and me, there were two American girls from the east coast, California I believe. One was a civil engineer and the other was about to go into law school. You might be able to take the girl out of California, but you can never take the California out of the girl...

The fifth bunk mate was an Egyptian man who insisted on making friends with every one, although he spoke about only a little more English than I do Arabic. Captain obvious says, I don't speak any Arabic. I do know a few words in Persian, but that really didn't help much. At all actually. Anyway, he presented me with a beaded necklace as a gift and felt he had to take my picture... A little creepy, but I think he meant well. The others in the room were bitter at me when I showed off my new digs, all they got were some cheesy key chains and similar trinkets. The best was when he wrote two pages of Arabic in my journal, of course I have no idea what it says, but I have chosen to believe it is some fantastic work of literature. Whether or not I ever get it translated remains to be seen.

The dynamic between the four of us (I will exclude the Egyptian man, whose name was Houman... I think. He pretty much did his own thing.) could be best described like this; Me desperately trying to not continue making an ass of myself. Perhaps it was the innate male need to compete with the most charismatic person in the room or it could just be I was a dolt that day, but for whatever reason, I kept saying stupid things. Regardless, we managed to get along well enough to make plans for the evening.

The plan fell together as the four of us were in the room doing our separate things. The girls were getting ready for a night out and spending a significant amount of time doing their hair. They had one thing on their mind and were not shy about it, as was evident when they split their large supply of condoms between their purses. Later, never shy for words, 6-string cowboy described them, in his Melbourne accent, as positively gagging for sex. These girls seemed to have no inhibitions and were looking forward to the club...and making out with each other or any other hot person around.

By the time we were all ready to leave, the boys having thrown on something more or less clean, the girls having spent hours transforming themselves into irresistible sirens, it was already getting late. Although our under-sexed Californians had already eaten, they were amiable to joining us at the tapas restaurant we had discovered the previous night. There would be drinks there and that was the most important thing.

The restaurant, called Tapas, (tapas is a type of Spanish cuisine consisting of small portions of a variety of foods, shared among a table)was a dimly lit place with solid wood furniture and art deco prints on the wall. It was divided into two sections, one section was neatly arrayed tables with chairs and a row of tables against the wall with padded benches. The other side had the bad, a few less tables, the same type of benches in the wall, and a large open space in the wall, leading outside. With warm bodies breathing their hot air into the space, the open window made for a comfortable breeze.

We choose a table in the middle of the bar section, this way we could talk with more random people. Ordering a litre of wine for the four of us, we set into the menu and ordered an array of dishes that we either new was good or wanted to try. As we ate, the girls quickly lost interest in us and were conversing with the table that was at their backs. We were more interested in our food and chatting with the tattooed waitress serving us. I have learned it is always beneficial to make nice with the wait staff, although I have yet to get a phone number for my efforts.

Having learned, from their new friends, of great club not far from where we were, our Americans in Oslo were eager to leave. Especially since there was a lull in the rain that started since we had arrived at the restaurant. They were quite concerned about their hair, after all, they had spent hours getting the curls just right.

The thing about people who travel on their own is, they tend to become fiercely independent and do not particularly respond well to orders. Although I was feeling amiable and perhaps a little ambivalent, I happy to stay or go. On the other hand, my Australian friend was no where near ready to go nor did he want to feel rushed. He dug his heels in and was not about to go anywhere. Thus, I was presented with my options: Leave for the club with the ladies who would most likely ignore me in short order or enjoy more libations in the cozy eatery with the friendly wait staff.

Ordering another half litre of wine for the two of us, we settled into our seats and chatted with the young waitress who had joined us at our table. On her necklace was a flat circle with the word Faith engraved. I asked her for the meaning of her necklace, faith in what? Just faith, is all she replied. I didn't press for further meaning, although I didn't completely understand her meaning. I felt maybe I would learn that on my own terms, when I was ready. Among her various other tattoos, was a portrait of her father and the dates of his life. Why a person should choose to believe a tattoo is a fitting memorial is beyond me, but at least I had the tact to appreciate it for what it was. I am forever fascinated by tattoos, but at the same time, sufficiently frighten of the risks to probably never get one. Besides, I am fickle and my opinions change often, I doubt I would like any piece of work for the rest of my life, even if it was permanently made part of my body.

As our wine dwindled and we contemplated leaving or perhaps, more wine, our favourite waitress returned with a two cold bottles of fine Norwegian ale, well, it was beer anyway. Compelled to stay, since it would be a terrible sin to waste free beer after we had racked up a rather large tab. We enjoyed the ambiance for a while longer, but eventually decided to leave for the club.

After complaining about people who constantly bum cigarettes off people, my companion didn't miss the irony as he did the same from the couple sitting on some steps not far from Tapas. Graciously making conversation as he did so, he was able to get two cigarettes.

Talking loudly, we continued on towards the direction we believed the club was. Our conversation attracted the attention of the couple ahead of us and the man asked where we were from. Never shy, we introduced ourselves with our names and nationalities, and fell into step with them. They were going to the club across the way from our and we were not, in fact, going in the right direction. In what would shape the course of the rest of the evening, we let them guide us to our destination. Once there, they decided to join us instead of going alone to the other club, which I am sure was equally as good.

Quickly moving through the queue, we entered into the seizure inducing, gut crushing, ear drum bashing, hypnotic, hard-house techno-trance blood-rave, strobe lighted, foggy dance hall. The very act of walking took a certain amount of concentration, the combination of music and lights was enough to throw off even a sober person's equilibrium. After getting their drinks from the bar, our friends disappeared into the crush, presumably to dance. Taking a moment to orient ourselves, we found the bar and paid the exorbitant price for Mexican beers (I have no idea why our night had a Spanish theme, Tapas and Coronas. No idea.) and waved to our American girls who were dancing with each other. Either no one in the club was good enough for them or they weren't quite as special as they thought they were. Their hair looked fine, for the record. I wondered, as they grinded with each other, if they would hold true to their promise to make out with each other.

Finding myself alone, my Australian friend having wandered off elsewhere, I decided to explore a little of the club. I came across our new friends who were talking with some other friends and I was introduced to a lovely Norwegian gal and her, thankfully, brother who was visiting from up north. Hoping for a dance partner, I chatted with her for a while until she excused herself for a moment to get a drink from the other side of the bar where they served hard liquor. Watching her go, I was sure she would be back, but the curiosity got the better of my patience and I went to explore the dark side. Winding my way through the hallways and dodging people far too inebriated, I discovered the other section. The music was a little different, not quite the reduce-your-insides-to-mush thumping I had just left, but still pretty good. My potential dance partner was at the bar, but with some guy I had not seen before. Feeling brazen, I asked her if she wanted to come back to the other side and dance. No. Defeated, but not discouraged I returned to the other section to found my crew and let my insides vibrate.

The night wore on and I was thirsty, but the bar was shutting down and I was forced to endure water. Just as well I suppose. Leaning against the bar, doing my best to look GQ with my H2O, I again observed the prize duo. Still alone. Making out with each other. Their irritation plainly obvious as no one particularly cared or bothered to take any interest.

I don't recall what time that actually was, but the music eventually stopped and the sun was not far from rising. Filing out, things got a little muddled. Some how an ex-girlfriend seemed to be able to get us into the party and a new friend joined our group. Thinking an after-party was a good idea, I convinced my very tired friend to come along. Ditching the girls who seemed to have finally found some boys who wanted to talk to them, our little group skulked off in search of this new venue. We made a brief stop at the club across from ours, where we made some inquiries, then moved on. It was not long before I realized we were not actually going to an after party, but to the new girl's flat. Apparently, we couldn't actually get in, something about the ex-girlfriend not entirely pleased about the whole situation. Not entirely sure what to make of the situation or if I believed the whole after-party story, I followed anyway. Slightly taken aback, again, as the night turned into morning.

Stopping one more time before our destination to buy rum and cigarettes, and so one of the lads could pee on a tree, barely concealed from the street by a few scrawny bushes. Then we were at the new girl's flat. A tiny little place with one bed room, a kitchen that turned into the living room if you turned around the wrong way, and a bathroom large enough to barely squeeze into. A few rum and cokes were poured (This is a drink I absolutely detest and make great pains to avoid. Never mind why), and we sat down to do I am not entirely sure. It took very little time for Melbourne to call it a night, he was exhausted and desperately wanted sleep. I understood that and did my best to quash the ribbing that came from the Norwegian couple, it wasn't as nice as it could have been. As he left, I decided to stay. I wasn't quite ready to go and thought maybe there would be some interesting discussions or something.

At the hosts suggestion, we ended up on the terrace on the roof top. The view was pleasant and we talked about nothing for a little while. After a while, we noticed that our friends had disappeared, but stayed a while longer, still chatting about nothing. Finally, admitting she didn't know them that well and wasn't so comfortable with them being alone in her flat, we returned downstairs. Once in her apartment though, we discovered they had left. Oddly, she wasn't so surprised with this as I thought she should have been. One minute they are here after trucking across town, then the next they are gone. However, I was surprised and I really didn't quite know what to make of it. Suddenly it was just me and this girl whose name I wasn't even sure of. I decided the best thing to do would be to politely drink a token amount of my rum and coke (without gagging), then leave.

I hadn't realized how far it was from my hostel, so it was around 5 before I made it back and I was quite glad to crawl into bed. Even if the sun was well up.