Norway is freezing during wintertime. And even though Oslo, thanks to the gulf stream, is relatively warm, temperatures then still drop to an average -3°C. Even now, only halfway into autumn, the scale falls below zero every second day or so. The thing is – I really like it.

It's that kind of dry, crackling cold that you can feel in your lungs with every breath. When the streets get this white frosty film even though there's not a hint of humidity left in the air. When there's a clear sky and even direct sunlight doesn't let you feel any warmth on your skin. When the fallen leaves get so brittle that they crack like glass. When you can only leave a small slit for your eyes to see in between five layers of clothing, gloves, scarf and thick beanie – and even then you can't help but shed a tear from time to time. When you lose the sensation in your toes after half an hour of walking outside. When it's so calm and silent everywhere, just because no one dares to leave the house. When it snows and the white glory actually lasts longer than a day and a half.

That's when winter is, how it should be, how it used to be. It's the way I remember it from my childhood. And not that rainy, gray, wet mess that we usually get these days.