I dated this Norwegian girl a hundred years ago. She wanted me to move to Norway and live on her fjord with her family. Upon further questioning, it turned out that life would not be all that simple.
It turns out her family owned a farm and she had designs on me as potential free farm labor.
When I asked about the night life and she told me there were bars you could go to, but that was generally too much trouble because of the snow and walruses and what not, so most people just made their own booze and drank at home alone.
As a joke, I asked if they had cars in Norway. Rightfully, she got very upset and offended by my backhandedly calling her a fjord-hick. The smile went away and, in all seriousness and huffiness, she told me, "Of course we have a car."
Then she added, "...but it doesn't run, so we pull it with the horses."
She was a beautiful girl and if all I had to do was drink bathtub gin in a car pulled by the Budweiser clydesdales, I probably would have gone for it (She was that beautiful), but the deal breaker was her complete lack of a sense of humor.
(I'm kind of drunk right now)