Discounting the insane drivers and ridiculous prices, Trondheim was a fairly normal, prettier than average, university town. We stayed in a huge and modern university student center, full of bars, concert stages and restaurants. Despite being perhaps 5 stories high, the building didn't have floors in a traditional sense. Instead the rooms existed on more than 50 different "semi-levels" all linked together by a maze of corridors and stairs. During summer some of the larger rooms are converted into hostel style accommodation.
Although our 40 person dorm was neither clean nor quiet and only had 1 working shower, the location was ideal. School term didn't start for a couple of weeks but many students had already begun their pre-orientation week orientation, (the technical term for "drinking at the student centre") so there were plenty of locals to befriend.
On my most memorable night I headed out with Kristian, a Norwegian of distinguished musical taste, for a tour of the city's best pubs. A few pints later, the pubs started to close so we enjoyed a final beer at the world's worst 80's retro club and parted ways. I made it back to the student center at about 3am and rang the doorbell a few hundred times in an effort to rouse the "24 hour reception". After about 15 minutes i resorted to loud banging and yelling before finally deciding to find an alternative entrance.
Just around the corner was a small open window about 6 feet above ground and, reasoning that the local law enforcement officers must have their hands full reversing after traffic offenders, I hoisted myself up and slid through sideways, flopping onto a couch about 9 feet below. The room I'd fallen into was one of the many private bars located throughout the center and although everyone had left, the evidence of a pretty solid party remained. Wandering out the door and into the maze of corridors I was dismayed to find that the only door which wasn't deadlocked led to a toilet.
Dismay turned to a strange sense of contentment as it occurred to me that there are plenty of worse places to be trapped than inside a bar. After sampling a few of the more exotic spirits, snacking on some leftovers and checking my email on the bar's computer, I found a comfortable couch and fell asleep. When I awoke at about 10am and negotiated my release with people working in the offices next door, I got the distinct impression that spending the night inside a Norwegian bar isn't particularly uncommon.
Although our 40 person dorm was neither clean nor quiet and only had 1 working shower, the location was ideal. School term didn't start for a couple of weeks but many students had already begun their pre-orientation week orientation, (the technical term for "drinking at the student centre") so there were plenty of locals to befriend.
On my most memorable night I headed out with Kristian, a Norwegian of distinguished musical taste, for a tour of the city's best pubs. A few pints later, the pubs started to close so we enjoyed a final beer at the world's worst 80's retro club and parted ways. I made it back to the student center at about 3am and rang the doorbell a few hundred times in an effort to rouse the "24 hour reception". After about 15 minutes i resorted to loud banging and yelling before finally deciding to find an alternative entrance.
Just around the corner was a small open window about 6 feet above ground and, reasoning that the local law enforcement officers must have their hands full reversing after traffic offenders, I hoisted myself up and slid through sideways, flopping onto a couch about 9 feet below. The room I'd fallen into was one of the many private bars located throughout the center and although everyone had left, the evidence of a pretty solid party remained. Wandering out the door and into the maze of corridors I was dismayed to find that the only door which wasn't deadlocked led to a toilet.
Dismay turned to a strange sense of contentment as it occurred to me that there are plenty of worse places to be trapped than inside a bar. After sampling a few of the more exotic spirits, snacking on some leftovers and checking my email on the bar's computer, I found a comfortable couch and fell asleep. When I awoke at about 10am and negotiated my release with people working in the offices next door, I got the distinct impression that spending the night inside a Norwegian bar isn't particularly uncommon.
1 comment:
I find myself in a similar situation, forced to sample the alcohol and steal the internets of my unknowing hosts!
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