{"id":3781,"date":"2026-06-05T11:16:18","date_gmt":"2026-06-05T19:16:18","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.marcoscarpio.com\/wordpress\/?p=3781"},"modified":"2026-06-05T12:12:06","modified_gmt":"2026-06-05T20:12:06","slug":"lifes-simple-joys-bicycling-in-norway","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.marcoscarpio.com\/wordpress\/2026\/06\/05\/lifes-simple-joys-bicycling-in-norway\/","title":{"rendered":"Life’s Simple Joys: Bicycling in Norway"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

On a recent trip to Scandinavia (Norway and Denmark), I once more experienced one of my life’s simple joys: riding a bicycle<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was a high school student in the early 70s when I became a serious cycling enthusiast by building my own road bike<\/strong>. I frequented bike shops to buy parts and accessories at the Cartimar Market and Shopping Center<\/strong> in Pasay City<\/strong> (Atlas Bike Shop<\/strong> and Christy’s<\/strong> were my favorites), <\/strong>small bike shops along Quezon Blvd in Quiapo, Manila,<\/strong> and in Antipolo, Rizal <\/strong>(now Antipolo City<\/strong>). I was also a habitue of the big Patria Bike Store<\/strong> (owned by the Kairuz family) along Buendia Avenue<\/strong> in Makati, Rizal <\/strong>(now also a city).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But I had my first bicycle when I was about 8 or 9 years old, when my father converted a small, dark green, Japanese-made (WWII-era?) commuter bike with rod-actuated caliper brakes into a modern “playbike<\/strong>” by changing the leather seat into a “banana-<\/strong>style” saddle and the low handlebars (where parts of the rods and levers of the hand-braking system were attached) into an “easy-rider<\/strong>” or “monkey bar<\/strong>” style handlebars, which was all the rage in the 70s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

While growing up, bicycling enabled me to explore places far beyond the confines of Baclaran, Paranaque<\/strong>. I would ride with glee, bravado, and pride through all the streets and alleys of our busy town (primarily because of devotees of the Baclaran Church<\/strong> or Shrine of the Mother of Perpetual Help<\/strong>, run by the Redemptorist missionaries), venturing beyond nearby towns and well into the cities of Pasay and Manila.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

With the road bike, I would go well beyond cities and into provinces in the Philippines. From Baclaran, I would ride solo or with a few cycling buddies to the highlands of Tagaytay City<\/strong> in the province of Cavite, sometimes venturing as far as Nasugbu, Batangas<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

During school breaks while in high school, I would load the bike into my father’s car or his “owner-type” jeep when he visited relatives in Talavera, Nueva Ecija<\/strong>. From there, I would go further up north into the provinces of Nueva Viscaya<\/strong> and Isabela<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As a freshman pre-med student, I, together with a childhood friend in Baclaran, Ray Anthony Nario<\/strong> (I would learn later that he had passed away), would go on an all-day ride along the quiet roads of the “backdoor<\/strong>” of Rizal Province, which I have a separate story<\/a> for. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I also have another -and more compelling- reason to love bicycling: it helped me exercise a polio-ravaged left leg. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

After I quit medical school, I found myself busy making a living in the information technology sector (but I had to earn degrees in IT and Accounting), and I took a long hiatus from cycling when I switched to swimming. But through it all, I would need to have a road bike in the house, even just to longingly gaze at it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And during that period, I would collect pro cycling videos (mostly on VHS tapes), read the latest cycling news, and attend a few events. To this day, I have a “fleet” of three (3) road bikes, a touring bike, and a mountain bike — even though they aren’t used as much as the lone road bike I had in high school.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Norway<\/strong> and Denmark<\/strong> are among the top 10 countries in the world, noted for their cycling infrastructure. Denmark, in particular, prioritizes bike lanes when planning new communities and ranks second only to the Netherlands as the most cycling-friendly country in the world.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In Norway, we joined a group, and a van picked us up at the port in Filipstad, Oslo<\/strong>, and briefly drove us to a shop called “Viking Biking and Hiking<\/strong>” along Nedre Slottsgate Street near the Nordic Bible Museum. We were led to the back of the shop, where the eight of us got the appropriately-sized bikes and helmets.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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If you’re a solo traveler, you can simply rent the bike of choice for about $38 (Norwegian Krone or NOK 350) a day and ride to your heart’s (and health’s) content around the city. But if you want some company, along with a guide and a set of places to visit in Oslo – like we did – in a span of three (3) hours, you can book your ride for around $48 (NOK 440) at Baja Bikes<\/a>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From the bike shop, our initial stop was the massive Akershus Fortress<\/strong> (Akershus Festning<\/strong> for Norwegians), which houses the Akershus Castle<\/strong>, the Armed Forces Museum<\/strong>, and Norway’s Resistance Museum<\/strong>. We spent about 30 minutes inside, with the fortress’s top offering fantastic views of the city!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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From the fortress, our bikes glided down a steep alley towards the Oslo City Hall (Oslo R\u00e5dhus). We stopped in front of the functionalist\/Scandinavian art-deco-inspired, red-brick-laden building. The halls leading to the main entrance are lined with murals depicting the country’s historic past (real and mythical), civic life, occupations, and resistance during the Second World War.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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