Tuesday 13 July 1999

"Going east" is their euphemism for my visits to the irrepressible Supergirl and her extended family.

"Hungry in Kristiansand" doesn't have the same ring to it as "Sleepless in Seattle", but that's OK, I haven't seen SiS and don't have a clue what it's all about. (In fact, I'm not even sure it was Seattle, but it was something starting with S. I fantasized that the next prize would go to "Penniless in Pentagon", that much I remember.)

As the last of my coworkers went home, I decided to get myself some food. My only meal so far had been a glass of milk and a sadly drooping cheesecake. (On the bright side, I got it for half price.) So I walked down the main street. The place was teeming with tourists: Kristiansand has crowned itself Norway's No 1 holiday resort. Famous for its zoo, Europe's largest exporter of camels. Not that I have any interest in camels; that's black lies and slander. Anyway, the pavement pizzeria was sold out, and tourists were waiting patiently. I was hungry and not inclined to wait for a pizza to be made from scratch. Onward to trusty old McDonalds.

McDonalds in Kristiansand resides in one of the town's most stylish houses, an old bank locale. There is no real competition. None of the other chains have even attempted to break in, and the small burger bars have mostly retreated into ethnic foods or disappeared completely. It's hard to stand up against the large, clean and classy avatar of the Golden Arches, the real symbol of the American Way of Life. I hear that they don't have quite that easy a time back home in the States, but we are a bit behind the times up here. Anyway, the thing was packed. Now, this place is pretty big. But the tourists had swarmed the place, and I decided to go to the nearby El Taco instead.

This is not my first summer in Kristiansand. I've had many a good meal in the garishly colored taco outlet. The service was great and the food was mostly harmless. So I concluded that it was all for the best that the other places had been full.

El Taco was gone. In its place was an Art Cafe! Gack. Now, I shall admit that I am not exactly John Wayne. And yes, I read Strangers In Paradise. But I do not carry a fuchsia handbag and I don't do interior decorating. And I do not set my foot in an art cafe.

By the time I passed the tourist packed ice bar, it was too late to both get some instant food and do the shopping I had planned for the afternoon. Instant gratification won out, and I finally hunted down my prey on the bus station, where the overpriced Oscar hamburgers are being sold. So far I haven't taken ill from it, so I guess that counts as a happy end.