This is just like Santa's workshop, except it smells like mushrooms and everyone looks like they want to hurt me

I wrote this on the train from Oslo to Trondheim, where we are now. In a couple hours we're going to take the train to the village of Levanger, where my great-grandma was from:

We're on our way to Trondheim after a nice night in Oslo, according to a gentleman of Sarah's acquaintance, "the most expensive city in the world" (keep in mind that this is a man who took his nine-year-old daughter 900 miles north of the Arctic Circle to observe polar bears).

We had a small $16 pizza for dinner and as we were eating our $6 7-11 ice cream bars in the park, we were approached by some locals. After saying hi, they proceeded (out of nowhere and with absolutely no provocation) to tell us how much they hate America and how stupid they think all Americans are. I hate the fact that part of our introduction to Norway was tainted by these assholes, especially since unlike them, I don't believe that everyone who lives in a country has the same opinion. I don't want to think that these people hate me without knowing me - based not on any personal morals or beliefs, but simply upon my physical habitat. After less than two minutes, we just got up and left. It's pointless to argue, or even try to talk to people like that. Sarah was in tears, and I was inwardly furious, but also surprised. I've never met another person of that guy's age (he was probably in his 20's) who would close-mindedly believe that a nation's government reflects 100% of its population. Sure, little kids might think so, but I don't know of anyone over the age of 18 or so who is so naive. For instance, are we to assume that all Germans during WWII were Nazis? I've never thought so, and I doubt many would think that was the case.

As we walked down by the harbor, still shocked an angered over an encounter that seemed to manifest the simmering sentiment we had been feeling from locals the entire trip, we discussed how America helped Norway during WWII. Homeboy didn't know his history very well, it appears. As if in answer to our questions, half-an-hour later we came upon a large statue of FDR, seated Lincoln-like, over looking the docks.

"Lincoln!" I cried at first. Then, reading the pedestal, "Roosevelt!"

"We love Roosevelt," came a voice from the wall next to the statue, where we could just make out two boys and a girl in the 10pm dusk. The speaker introduced himself as David, an 18-year-old medical student, originally from Gambia. When Sarah told him about our earlier encounter, he apologized and assured us that they love Americans. His friendliness was coincidentally timed - the perfect anecdote to thinking everyone in Oslo hates us.