From Oz to Oslo

This statement may be reaching into the realm of Captain Obvious, but having ice all over the ground during the winter months is not exactly a common hazard in my home country Australia. For those similarly uneducated in this menace to society, ice typically forms if the temperature rises above zero after a snowfall (causing the snow to melt) but then falls below zero again. Ice is particularly likely to occur on footpaths, because as people trample across snow it turns into slush and becomes packed down by the weight.

My first fall on ice happened shortly before my birthday two years ago, when I was walking back to my apartment with some friends. Suddenly my feet came out from under me and I cracked down very hard on my left knee. Having never fallen on ice, I was a little startled by it (not to mention the searing pain in my knee, which left a bruise for weeks), but my companions were even more distressed, as I had apparently just missed whacking my head against a concrete post on the way down. As a birthday gift, they gave me a pair of metal spikes to attach to the bottom of my shoes.

All this ice underfoot has led me to develop two phobias: 1) slipping on some icy stairs and breaking my back, and 2) slipping on a footpath and falling into oncoming traffic. Since hearing these phobias (and, no doubt, knowing how clumsy I am) my boyfriend has started walking between me and the road when we’re on an icy pavement. These phobias of course mean that I am quite tense about walking on ice, and even when I wear boots with lots of traction I tend to slip a little and yelp loudly (well… more like yodel) every few feet. My boyfriend, who of course has 25 years more experience of walking on ice than I do, advises me to not stiffen up when I’m walking on ice, because being rigid increases my chance of falling. He suggested I relax and just “go with” the sliding, because every time I slip I learn how to re-balance to handle slips in future, and spot which kind of ice causes falls. (He does have an ulterior motive in giving me advice, as right now I hold onto his arm for dear life when we walk on ice together, so if I fall I’ll probably take him down with me. )

Fortunately, it is actually quite easy to spot which kind of ice will send you tumbling. It is typically transparent rather than white, very shiny, and even the thinnest sliver can be very slippery. So it is better to walk on whiter ice or the crunchier snow on the side of the path, or the gravel that the local government scatters about on major footpaths to give more traction. (I should send a thank-you letter to the blessed person who lays out that gravel.) Appearances can, however, be deceiving – if fresh, light snow falls over the slippery ice you have no way of knowing there is ice underneath… until you find yourself practising your yodeling skills and visiting the gutter again.

Many foreigners visiting Norway leave with the impression that Norwegians are very shy, because they always keep their heads down. But as I’ve learnt after two years in Oslo, it’s not so much introversion as vigilance – they’re just scanning the ground for ice.