After the baking hot day yesterday and a proper day’s touristy bollocks planned for the Monday, I decided that after dinner that an early night was best and settled in to get some of this tosh written up. It was a good move as the old pins were were rested for what was to follow. Having got my admin done and scarfed a full continental, I headed on down to the ferry terminal at Aker Bryyge but first popped into a branch of the wonderous cavern of tat that is a Clas Ohlson. If you’ve never done one, do. It’s one of those ‘has fucking everything’ stores and it’s saved my bacon a couple of times on previous visits here. They did open some stores in the UK, but being the uncultured pigs that we are, we let them wither away and they pulled out back in 2018. Very sad.
This time I want a simple little backpack to use to carry my water, battery pack and some snacks as I’m buggered if I’m going to be stumbling about with my pockets full of crap all day again. Twelve quid later, I’m back on course and have soon located the little ferry for Bygdone, which is home to a cluster of museums that are right up my particular alley. I’ve timed it just right and just a couple minutes after boarding, we’re chugging up the fjord to our destination. Here is the Fram Museum, a triangular building built around the Polar exploration vessel ‘Fram’, used by Roald Amundsen when he pipped old Scott to the South Pole. Across the street is the Kon Tiki museum. Another nautical one for the somewhat mad vessels, these ones sailed across vast bodies of water by floating mentalist Thor Heyerdahl, including his original balsa wood raft from 1947 which gives the museum it’s name.
This one’s a real highlight for me as I vividly remember watching the documentary on this as a kid and then lapping up the book about the same. It’s definitely a little bucket list tick this one and I stand for a good 20 minutes just looking at this crazy contraption. They sailed across the Pacific on this? Lunatics. I then knock off the Maritime Museum next before hoiking over to the Folk Museum a short distance away inland (sadly the Viking one with the famous longboat next door is shut for renovations. Sad frowny tourist face). Still, this next gaff is something else, basically a fuck off great big collection of various buildings from down the years representing Norway’s development and regional culture. The highlights being a Stave church which is worth the entry alone and a completely reconstructed 3 storey apartment block from central Oslo rebuilt brick by brick here. Mad old place. If you ever do get out to these parts, pick up the Oslo pass. A 72 hour one costs you 65 quid, includes shedloads of museums (including all today’s mentioned here) and all your travel in and immediately around town (buses, trams, the lot) also including the little ferry over here. Going by entry prices alone mine has paid for itself on day one too. Can’t knock it. Great value and I highly recommend it.
With time getting on and needing food, I hop the boat back and head for the hotel. Quick freshen up, change of t-shirt to a less sweaty number and I’m back out for some much needed scoff having only had a cinnamon bun since breakfast. A quick Pad Thai at a local world food court does the trick and I’m feeling much better about life. Right, suppose it’s time for some shit football? Shall we? As with a lot of these adventures, it’s a stroll to Jernbarntorget to hop on the T-Bane, then a run out to Godlia, about 4 stops and 15 minutes away. Then from there it’s trusting Google maps to get me to Trasop Kunstgress in time for kick off. Having wound my way through some more of suburban Oslo including some of the nicest looking housing estates I’ve ever seen in my life, I’m soon on the main drag approaching the ground. I can hear a PA playing which is a surprise, as today’s game between Oppsal IF and Sarpsborg 08 II is in the 4th tier, so I wasn’t expecting much in the way of life tonight. Hey ho. Sweating like Dirty Barry in a adult entertainment emporium with a sale on, I walk into the ground just in time to catch kick off. Sweet. Now where can I sit down? I’m bollocksed.
The setup is quite lively, with 2 pitches next to the main road bustling with kids football as I passed just a couple of minutes before, and I find the smallish seated area just beyond the halfway line pretty busy as well with people watching. There must be about 80-100 in all told. Not bad. I guess being sited surrounded by so much housing means a few of the locals probably enjoy a watch? I park on a seat, load up on water and settle down to watch the action. Half of which I’m blinded from by the low evening sun above the corner flag on the far side. Nice. Right, so who are this lot then? Turns out Oppsal were formed in 1970 following a number of mergers of various clubs and appear to be perennial yo-yo’s mainly between the 3rd & 4th levels. Bouncing up and down since 2015, but are now in their 4th season back at this level. The oppo meanwhile are the reserve side of an Eliteserien outfit and thus can fuck right off out of it. Whilst ressie sides in the structure is normal in a lot of Europe, I can’t stand it personally. Up the Opps!!
The hosts start bright and cause some issues down the right with some quick passing and movement. This leads to an early chance, with the ball clipped to the back post but the blue shirt in attendance can’t quite beat the angle with his header and nuts against the upright. The visitors hit back immediately and only some sharp defending in front of goal prevents a simple close range finish. Behind me, a couple lads have been chatting, one clearly American and one a local lad. A chap sitting next to me then turns to ask the American a question in Norwegian which he bails on for obvious reasons, the chap chuckles at his poor choice and turns to me sitting next to him and goes “Are you American too?”. No mate, I’m from faaackin Landan fam! Of course, being from the home of the Association game, he wants to know who I support. I chuckle. “Sutton United”. Blank stare. “5th division”. Blank stare continues. At this point, I get my wallet out and show him my season ticket. He looks bemused. Sorry mate, we’re not all fucking Arsenal or Chelsea! Still, we have a nice little chat about the number of odd English supporters clubs there are in Norway. Still, at least he didn’t mention the fucking pie.
On the pitch, the visitors come close when their big no.7 in the middle shows great feet on the edge of the box and wallops a dipper back off the bar. It’s a let off that the hosts make the most of as just past the half hour, they knock one in and I’m presented with my first goal in the last 72 plus hours. A cross from the far side looks an easy clearance for a defender in the middle, but he completely pig ears it and the Oppsal no.10 nicks it off his toe and sticks it past the keeps into the corner. Wahey! When I’d sat down, I’d noticed on the perimeter fence that someone has scrawled “Oppsal Ultras” on it in marker pen. I wonder who these lot are and my question is soon answered as we approach half time. Some young lads, probably no more than 12 if they’re a day, leave the stand and pop to the tea hut next to us and all are wearing ‘Oppsal Ultras’ t-shirts. LADS LADS LADS! They soon return stocked up on fizzy pop, that they’ve no doubt obtained by menaces, probably by waving a stanley in the face of the poor sod behind the jump. Proper naughty little mob that and no mistake. They’ve give the Bog End Firm at Tooting a run for their money no doubt about it.
The hosts retain their lead into the break and I take my now sweaty arse off for a wander around the ground. It’s an athletics venue, but you don’t feel hugely removed from the action like with some. The other side of the PA box, there’s also a run of terrace steps, 3-4 high down the touchline. So the place isn’t completely devoid of home comforts or vantage points. With the setting sun getting right on my tits by being right in my eyes, I wander round to the opposite side to get a few pics and take a difference vantage point on the action. As I await the restart, I notice that the floodlights are of an unusual flat, circular\carousel configuration. Nice, highly approved. You don’t see many different lights these days. Also, I note that the woods behind me have paths winding in and out of them and I check online to see if indeed the path I’d spotted on the way in would have put me right into the ground a good 10 minutes quicker. Yep, it would. Fuck my life. Still, it seems I can get back to the station a bit quicker that way, lesson learned!
Second half underway and the hosts really should put the issue to bed. With the away side insisting on playing out from the back all the time, the age old issue of not being Man fucking City comes to the fore as they get pressed, lose the ball and end up gifting chances to the oppo. Fortunately for them, they’re all basically off target. But, as we well know and saw at York, stay in the game. And as time ticks by Sarpsborg manage to eke out a few chances. Sadly for them, the home keeper’s having absolutely none of their nonsense. With 15 left, he makes a superb point blank stop from an almost certain goal and then is bailed out by his defender getting a block on the seconds to send it over the crossbar. He also has to tip over a decent knock from range as well going into the last 10. But it’s Oppsal who should finish matters in the last minute with a nice 1-2 edge, a lad skips in, keeper to beat but a defender just gets the foot in and deflects his shot over the top. It doesn’t matter though as the ref blows for time soon after and the blues have a sound 3 points on the board. Fair play lads.
Right, back to the station I go. Christ, it doesn’t half get nippy in these parts once that big orange thing buggers off below the horizon you know. Using my newly acquired backwoods knowledge, I follow a path through the trees and of course emerge right at the point I’d thought about a shortcut on the way in. Typical! Live and learn though. Annoyingly I just miss a metro back into town and have to park my arse on the platform to wait for the next one, at least it’s out of the wind and so less cold. But this is efficient euro-transport and of course it shows dead on time and 15 minutes later, I’m back in the centre and dragging my barking feet on one last walk back to my digs in the shadow of the Cathedral. Tomorrow? Same again. Tourist bullshit and them some lower league nonsense.
Can’t odds it.
Taz