Been traveling a lot within my own city lately, viewing apartments in this crazier-than-the-US-election housing market. It’s like a new hobby taking up all my time. Discovering the different neighbourhoods. Becoming bad ass at logistics trying to get from east to west in time for the next viewing. Flirting with handsome real estate agents. Carrying around tons of printed prospects. Feeling anxious and sickened by the hysterical bidding wars. Bricks are the new gold standard.
Viewing houses is like daydreaming about the future life I can have in that apartment, in that neighbourhood. I’d eat more vegetables for sure in Grønland with all the cheap immigrant shops around, maybe befriend more Muslims, practice Arabic and spend even more time at the urban seawater pool at Sørenga, my favourite place to worship the sun.
In Grünerløkka I’d be surrounded by hipsters and perhaps feel a little proper? Spend way to much on eating out and having cocktails in bars. Maybe I`d begin to give a fuck about fashion, who knows! St. Hanshaugen is a real diamond, a hidden gem with a luscious green park overlooking the city and the fjord. And in walk-able distance to everything central. It will break my heart to leave it after five years but its not within price range.
Here I am at the hippest restaurant (Pjoltergeist) in Oslo, in my wannabe hipster sweater with pretentious print…
Sometimes I look at places far out, like a good half an hour on the metro. You know those places in the middle of nowhere where there is definitely an IKEA. I’m used to walking to work every day so that’s pretty suburban for me. I’d get a big husky, like one of them direwolves. We would go hiking in the forest, pick berries and make jam, cross country skiing in winter, and it would be the end of my social life as we know it. The struggle is real. Soon I`ll start to offer exclusive guided tours of Oslo including demographics and crime stats.