For my 21st birthday, my boyfriend surprised me with a trip to Sandefjord — a stunning coastal town just a stone’s throw from Oslo. With its sweeping fjords, invigorating hikes, and rich cultural history, Sandefjord felt like stepping straight into a postcard.
Norway is often celebrated as a global leader in climate action. From eco‑friendly transport systems to major investments in renewable energy and a steep carbon tax, sustainability is woven into the country’s identity. Walking through Sandefjord, that commitment feels tangible; it’s a place where caring for the planet seems built into everyday life.
Beneath that green reputation, however, lies an interesting contradiction. While Norway works hard to reduce emissions from cars and industry, it appears less willing to confront the environmental impact of animal agriculture. Sandefjord, once known as the whaling capital of Norway, embodies this tension. Its heritage is steeped in whaling, and its menus still lean heavily toward seafood and meat. With Norwegian cuisine so deeply tied to its landscapes and traditions, from Kjøttkaker to Lutefisk, it’s understandable that food plays a central role in cultural expression. Still, in such an eco‑aware country, I wasn’t expecting to rely on bread and pasta as my safest vegetarian options.
Sandefjord left me enchanted by its landscapes and impressed by its climate‑conscious spirit, yet also amused by the irony: a town so committed to sustainability, still serving up whale history and fish‑heavy plates with barely a non‑meat dish in sight.
That contrast made me wonder whether Sandefjord really cares about climate change, not enough to disrupt its traditional sources of identity and income it seems. The city has certainly moved on from its whaling prime, yet it continues to honour that chapter through its dedicated whaling museum. Wandering through its extensive exhibits, it becomes clear how thin the line can be between historical reflection and local pride. The past lingers — complex, fascinating, and impossible to ignore.
To its credit, Sandefjord has made significant strides toward eco‑friendly change, investing millions in environmental initiatives and committing to a 40% emissions reduction by 2030. Yet even with these efforts, the environmental legacy of whaling, and the continued dominance of seafood in local cuisine, casts a long shadow.
Amid this blend of heritage and modernity, we stumbled upon one of Sandefjord’s unexpected vegetarian gems: a rustic little café called Lunch Club. Just a short walk from the town centre, it offered more vegetarian options than anywhere else we visited, and it felt like striking gold. I ordered homemade tomato soup with grilled cheese, an açai bowl, and a pesto and red pepper panini. Both were comforting, colourful dishes that felt thoughtfully crafted rather than improvised.
Credit: Heidi Taylor @ The Mancunion
The atmosphere stood out, too. While many nearby cafés stuck to the basics, simple cheese sandwiches and menus that required negotiating substitutions, Lunch Club felt intentional, contemporary, and refreshingly aligned with modern dietary preferences.
Credit: Heidi Taylor @ The Mancunion
Sandefjord was beautiful, interesting, and incredibly historical. But, the trip made me wonder: do cities, like Sandefjord, really want to help the environment, or are they more interested in a superficial aesthetic?
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