Once again: Oslo. Luckily, there's no snow, and it's not particularly cold either. It ain't California, but it could be much worse. (It usually is.)

The flight was absolutely horrible, and please remind me to never, ever travel through Charles De Gaulle ever again, unless I absolutely have to. France is fantastic, and Paris a great city, but that airport must be one of the worst in Europe. A complete lack of signs, illogical layout, and a dearth of information makes it impossible to figure out where to go, and how to get there. (And the less said about the toilets, the better.) I spent a good ten minutes walking back and forth between the gate and passport control until I realised that I actually had to go into the arrivals hall before I could transfer to my Oslo flight. I fly a lot, and the airports in Amsterdam, Copenhagen, and London are well suited as hubs. Paris? Mmm, not so much, no. Being freakishly tall, I also had to endure Air France's version of the iron maiden. Not fun.

Well, at least I get to keep my feet on the ground for the next, oooh, twenty-three days?
  ¶ 16:46