It was in those days when I wandered about hungry in Kristiania, that strange city which no one leaves before it has set its mark upon him….
—Knut Hamsun
Out of the three Scandinavian capitals, Oslo might be the least conspicuous one. Being subject to alternatively Danish and Swedish rules throughout history, it is not as urban or continental as Copenhagen, nor can it compare with Stockholm as a grand metropolis. Yet the city has over years developed its own unique style of slow-paced elegance.
By the time Norway gained its independence from Denmark in 1814, Christiania (Oslo’s old name back then) was hardly a big city. It was of roughly the same size as Trondheim and only half as large as Bergen. The following two decades witnessed the strong expansion of Christiania, largely thanks to its status as the appointed capital of the newly independent Norway. Establishment of the public and stately organisations—the royal palace, the parliment, the national theatre and the university buildings, among other things—had expanded the city far beyond its historical confinements. By the end of the 1830s, Christiania has become the largest city in Norway.
Industrialisation, starting from the 1840s, has further fuelled the city’s explosive expansion. Strong demand for labour in the factories attracted more people to move into the city, and new areas both inside and outside of the core city have been developed to accomodate their needs of accomodation.
In the early 1900s, Christiania has already developed into a modern metropolis, even though living conditions, especially for the working class, were still miserable. Knut Hamsun, the 1920 Nobel Literature Prize laureate and one of the forerunners of modernist literature, lived in Christiania in the 1880s. Under his pen, the city’s sheer size and burgeoning population gave rise to a kaleidoscopic range of fleeting impressions. Views from the street, noise from the traffic, sounds from the park—everything weaves into an absurd web of sensations, out of which one needs to fabricate the meaning of one’s own existence. As Hamsun wrote in his break-through novel Hunger:
I opened the window and looked out. From where I was standing I had a view of a clothes, line and an open field. Farther away lay the ruins of a burnt-out smithy, which some labourers were busy clearing away.
[…]
I walked round the palace three, perhaps four, times, then came to the conclusion that I would go home, took yet one little turn in the park and went back down Karl Johan. It was now about eleven. The streets were fairly dark, and the people roamed about in all directions, quiet pairs and noisy groups mixed with one another. The great hour had commenced, the pairing time when the mystic traffic is in full swing—and the hour of merry adventures sets in. Rustling petticoats, one or two still short, sensual laughter, heaving bosoms, passionate, panting breaths, and far down near the Grand Hotel, a voice calling “Emma!” The whole street was a swamp, from which hot vapours exuded.
During his young and destitute years, Hamsun lived at the old Christiania’s Vaterland area, which is the area between today’s Oslo Central Station, Storgata and Aker river. Back then, this area was still part of the city’s outskirts, cramped with factory workers and independent businessmen and small merchants, notorious for its bad housing and poor living conditions.
Starting in the 1970s, a wave of gentrification, as part of the larger trend across the whole Scandinavia, began to transform these old working class areas. Grünerløkka, the city’s most populated area, is one of the successful examples of this process. Being “rediscovered” by the middle-class, the area has become one of the city’s most lively leasure areas that started to attract young and posh upper-middle-class to stay and live over the past 20 years.
Riding on the momentum of the third-wave coffee across the world, Grünerløkka has today established itself as the city’s absolute coffee heaven, on the strength of the sheer number of specialty cafés gathered here. Tim Wendelboe, the world-renowned Norwegian roastery, opened its one and only shop in Grünerløkka in 2007, attracting hundreds of tourists from all over the world every day.
The neighbouring area, Gamle Oslo (literally meaning “Old Oslo”), is trying to follow suit. Once notorious as a hotbed for drug trades and street crimes, the area retains its hippie roots and it is now home to numerous artisan bakeries and independent cafés.
East of the city centre is Bjørvika, one of the Oslo’s latest developed areas. Before 2000, the area was nothing more than a bustling container ship port and a major highway junction. Today, it is home to both the new Munch museum and the new National Museum, the latter being the largest national museum in the whole Scandinavia. The area has thus become the hot spot for the city’s most ambitious bakers and restaurateurs to establish their names.
Contrary to the wide spread of low-priced instant coffee in the first wave, and the mass-consumption of dark roasted coffee in the second wave, the third-wave coffee places the emphasis on high quality beans, roasted light so as to bring out their distinctive flavours.
As this movement of “specialty coffee” continues to gain in popularity, it is no longer reserved for the young and fashionable few that frequent Grünerløkka on a regular basis. This ripple effect has led to the emergence of a slew of neighbourhood specialty cafés and artisan bakeries, from the city’s traditional posh areas such as Frogner and St. Hanshaugen, to its still peripheral suburbs such as Skullerud. All these small, chill and cosy spaces are perhaps the modern incarnation of the Norwegian “koselig” chicness.