Alcohol

The sale of alcohol is highly controlled by the government in Norway, which is kind of ironic, since Norway has such a high rate of alcoholism.  Perhaps their tight restrictions on it create the increased desire.  The legal drinking age is 18.

I think it’s funny that all their liquor stores are called “Vinmonopolet” which translates as  “The Wine Monopoly.”  Duh.  The Wine Monopoly also sells hard liquor, but beer is sold in the grocery stores until 6pm weekdays and 3pm on Saturdays.  The stores lay huge tarps over the beer section when the legal selling hours have passed.  The Wine Monopoly store closes down at three on Saturdays so there is always a flurry of activity at that time, as those who like to imbibe, scurry about making sure they have enough alcohol to get them through to Monday morning.

The taxes on alcohol in Norway are insane.  To buy one can of beer in the grocery store starts at about five dollars, at the current rate of exchange for Norwegian kroner.  That means a six-pack costs thirty dollars, minimum, and it goes up from there.  It’s expensive to be an alcoholic in Norway.  Even the nastiest tasting bottles of cheap wine will cost at least twenty dollars, but most brands range thirty to a hundred dollars, for the same brands we can buy in America for five to ten bucks. 

Ordering a beer in a restaurant costs about ten dollars, and the cheapest bottle of wine will cost at least $100.

Several years ago we took Kory’s cousin and his wife out to dinner to thank them for all their hospitality they’d shown us during our three-week stay.  We all ordered a regular dinner with no extras, and they each ordered a bottle of wine.  That meal cost us $650.  I nearly cried. 

After that experience, we just started bringing over bottles of wine from America as a thank-you gift for our hosts.  We are allowed to bring in three bottles each, tax free, so every year we load up our suitcases with “cheap” wine from America. It’s like presenting them with precious jewels. 

We only had one problem one year when my husband didn’t wrap a bottle of red wine well enough, so it broke in transit, and got all over everything.  We knew we were in trouble when we saw the suitcase on the conveyor belt at the airport, wrapped in a plastic bag.  It was sad to lose that wine, because it actually was the most expensive one we brought, but at least we had the memories of it every morning when my husband put on his pink underwear.