A special thank you to my newest supporters, Wendy, Jim, and Karrie. This one's for you.
Welcome to My Monday Morning
It's Monday, April 7th, and I'm sitting at one of the wooden communal tables at Åpent Bakeri, a cozy cafe in Oslo. The morning light streams through tall windows, casting long rectangles of sunshine across the wooden floorboards. My double flat white with oat milk sits steaming beside my laptop, with a perfectly shaped brown heart painted on the white foam. Outside, the trees along the street are just beginning to show their spring buds against a pristine blue sky – not warm yet, but brilliantly sunny in a way that feels like a gift after the long Norwegian winter.
This café became my sanctuary when I first arrived in Oslo last September. Without a permanent home, I'd walk here from my nearby hotel room, grateful for its consistency while everything else remained in flux. Even though I've since found my own place, I return here regularly. There's something about the quiet conversations, the espresso machine's occasional hiss, and the wood stove's gentle crackle that makes me feel at home.
A Corner of History in Yellow
I've never written about the history of this building. Locals sometimes call it Oslo's "Flat Iron," a more modest cousin to Manhattan's famous landmark. The resemblance is there, though less dramatic: a yellow-painted wedge where diagonal streets meet, creating an unusual architectural footprint. Built around the turn of the 20th century, it exemplifies the architectural style of the period when vibrant colors were becoming more than just practical choices.
The striking yellow exterior belongs to a rich tradition of colorful buildings across Scandinavia and Central Europe. This color wasn't merely decorative – in Scandinavian countries, the practice of painting houses in bold colors dates back to the 16th century. The vibrant hues helped identify homes during dark, snowy winters, and certain colors often indicated wealth or function within the community. By the early 1900s, when this building was constructed, these colorful facades had become entwined with emerging Art Nouveau influences, celebrating cultural identity while embracing artistic innovation.
I wonder about the original decisions behind this particular yellow shade – was it a statement of optimism during Norway's early independence period? Or perhaps a practical choice that simply endured through the decades? Either way, it stands as a warm contrast to Oslo's often steel-gray winter skies.
The café itself was among the first in what has become a small chain across Oslo – I believe there are sixteen locations now. I've visited several, but this remains my favorite. I've heard the founder is French, which explains the impeccable pastries – the pain au chocolat here rivals anything I've found east of Paris.
What I Wanted to Share With You Today
Writing from cafés is like entering a microcosm of the broader world. This morning, as Simon & Garfunkel's "America" played softly in the background, two well-dressed elderly Italian women chatted animatedly over their coffees. In contrast, across from them, a woman spoke quietly in Dutch on her phone.
When she finished her call, I asked if she was from the Netherlands. She smiled and told me she and her Norwegian husband moved here thirteen years ago after trying to live in both countries. "The space, the nature, the quality of life, the people," she listed, counting reasons on her fingers. "We needed to see both sides before we knew which felt like home. The children agreed, and we all moved back to Norway."
I'll likely never publish this conversation in one of my Substack newsletters or on Medium, but it struck me how these small exchanges shape my understanding of place. These quiet Monday morning revelations that never make it into formal articles provide the true architecture of my thinking.
Meanwhile, my phone buzzed with news alerts about the American markets preparing to open significantly lower — the aftermath of Trump's latest tariff announcements. People here continued their quiet conversations as the index numbers plummeted across Asia. Somehow, working in the calm of Åpent Bakeri's cafe atmosphere increases the distance to the ever-increasing global chaos.
Looking Ahead
This café visit connects directly to a piece I'm developing about Germany in the late 1920s and early 1930s – a period I've studied extensively through literature. The parallels to contemporary America feel increasingly relevant, something I've touched on in The Planet newsletter on substack but haven't fully explored. I'm still gathering my thoughts, weighing how to approach such a comparison without oversimplification.
I also need to write about why I was in Berlin last month. I gave a keynote speech at a conference about using advanced analytics to promote sustainability and create breakthroughs in corporate environmental practices. The research behind that presentation has fascinating implications I haven't shared publicly yet.
Later this week, I'll briefly stop in the Netherlands before continuing my travels. Perhaps I'll gain additional perspectives to help shape these emerging pieces.
I plan to write on Buy Me a Coffee whenever there are new subscribers, while my main publications continue on Substack and Medium. These café chronicles are my way of sharing more personal thoughts and behind-the-scenes insights with supporters like you.
What books or historical sources have significantly shifted your understanding of the present? I'd love to hear your thoughts.
With a steaming cup of gratitude, ☕️
Alexander
