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About Kristiansand

Now, me quirks kick in—I’m pacin’ the deck, talkin’ to meself, “Jack, ye daft fool, don’t hire the first lass ye see!” Gotta vet ‘em, check histories—clean data, not scurvy lies. Once, I near hired a gal who swore she’d been with Blackbeard himself—exaggeratin’ for dramatics, aye, but I laughed ‘til me ribs ached. “I like simple pleasures,” I growl, quotin’ Amélie, “like rum and a good tale!”

Norwegian law on prostitution

So, I hit the streets, and let me tell ya, the air is crisp. Like, I could feel my nose hairs freezing. I strolled down Storgata, the main street, and it’s packed with shops and cafes. I’m like, “Cool, let’s grab a coffee.” But then, bam! I see this cute little doggo. I’m talking about a fluffy golden retriever just chillin’ outside a café. I’m like, “Aww, look at that pup!” But then, the owner comes out, and I’m like, “Dude, can I pet your dog?” He’s all, “Nah, he’s shy.” I’m like, “Shy? He’s a retriever! They’re supposed to be friendly!” Ugh, whatever.

Forget your classic city break — I spent 24 hours in the 'Paris of the North'