Scandinavia – Denmark, Sweden, Norway

11 Days of Fjords, Open Sandwiches, and Finding Subo’s Relatives

Ah yes, our epic 11-day Scandinavian adventure—where history, red herrings, and hats collided in glorious chaos. We began in Denmark with a crash course in Danish government. We then flexed our cultural muscles at the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek and the National Museum (we nodded thoughtfully at old things), strolled through the Insta-perfect harbor of Nyhavn, and paid our respects to a tiny bronze mermaid who looked like she was rethinking all her life choices.

On our second day, in a bold act of rebellion, I ditched the afternoon tour for tea with a real-life Dane, Vibeke Hastrup. That’s right—cultural immersion, one teacup at a time. That evening, we hit Tivoli Gardens, where some very loud, very experimental music convinced us to seek solace in food. Kalai, hungry and brave, tried the legendary Danish “open sandwich,” which turned out to be a slice of rye bread with things thrown on it. She was not impressed.

Subo and Bala, our dynamic duo, mysteriously disappeared from the group multiple times—because apparently, they are related to half of Scandinavia. “Oh look, it’s my cousin’s niece’s husband’s dog walker!” and off they’d go.

The day after, we zoomed over to Sweden, crossing the dramatic 5-mile-long Öresund Bridge like Nordic action stars. Arrived in Gothenburg, where our guide Luiz proudly led us into an hour-long queue for “the best gelato in town.” We’re still convinced he owns stock in that shop—or at least shares a last name with the manager.

On Friday, it was off to Norway, via a scenic bus ride that featured fjords, forests, and one very dashing hat purchase by Bala in Fredrikstad. He says it gives him “Nordic flair.” We say… sure.

Saturday brought us to Oslo, where we puzzled over art in the National Museum. Yes, we saw The Scream, and yes, we screamed a little at the gift shop prices. The real highlight? Climbing the Oslo Opera House for amazing views and even more amazing calf pain.

The optional Arctic exploration museum tour was genuinely fascinating—full of Norwegians with wild ideas and colder toes. We learned how Norwegians raced to the Arctic only to be beaten by Americans, and how a guy crossed the Pacific on a raft made from twigs and pure stubbornness. Inspiring? Yes. Also, mildly insane.

We now have a list of documentaries to watch that is longer than our to-do list at home.

Sunday was spent pretending to be Olympic athletes in Lillehammer, but we nailed the photos. We tried out Olympic ski poses without skis, snow, or any transferable athletic ability. The photos are convincing. The knees are still recovering

Monday took us into Fjord Country, which might be the most beautiful place on Earth, assuming you survive the mountain roads. We stopped in Lom, where I—plot twist—ran into a friend from Sacramento, because of course. Our driver, Helge, expertly navigated the “roof of Norway,” a scenic route that’s apparently claimed only three passengers in his career. We felt mostly safe.

Also, shout-out to the “Scandinavian Explorer” jackets Kalai and I bought. She swore it was Sherpa wool. I was betting on Merino. Turns out? 100% Polyester. We’ve never been so personally victimized by a label.

Our final day en route to Bergen was full-on adventure mode. A fjord cruise! A train ride that stopped for a mystical dance by a lady who may or may not have been a Hudri (or possibly a tourist who got really into character). In Bergen, we hunted for local cuisine—Norwegian? Swedish? Anything Scandinavian? We gave up and ate Indian. Because why not? Because nothing screams “Scandinavia” like paneer tikka.

The official end came with the mandatory walking tour (code for “let’s all slowly regret our shoe choices”). But things picked up with the funicular ride up Mount Fløyen. We saw goats vibing! We saw views! We considered never coming down!

We bid goodbye to Helge, our fearless driver, and Luiz, our gelato-loving guide. And, of course, to Subo’s fourteenth relative of the trip.

Scandinavia, you were cold, majestic, slightly confusing, and absolutely hilarious. We’ll be back—as long as Subo’s extended family hasn’t booked out the hotels already.

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