What happens when one of the most left-leaning countries in Europe unexpectedly strikes it rich? Mark Schatzker travels to a country with a heart of gold—and a bank account to match

It was when I spotted the construction crew installing radiant heating beneath a sidewalk that I realized just how well things are going in Norway. I'd heard of bathrooms with radiant heating. In Aspen, I once saw a chalet with an immense heated driveway. But sidewalks? It didn't seem possible. I took up the matter with one of the workmen.

"Pardon me, but is that sidewalk, er, heated?"

"Yes," he responded in crisp, perfect English, sounding rather matter-of-fact about the whole thing. (Like his fellow crewmen, he looked like a male model in a construction worker outfit.)

"Are all the sidewalks heated in Oslo?"

"Not yet," he said. "But most of them are."

How gloriously pedestrian, I thought.

But, really, I should have expected as much. Norway abounds with so many government-funded projects intended to improve the quality of life that the entire place is like some kind of fantasy of fiscal liberalism. After all, this is a country that just spent $180 million digging the longest road tunnel in the world—15 miles in all—to connect a town of 1,800 with a town of less than 2,300. (Norwegians, as you will see, have a thing for tunnels.) This is a country that's about to spend $300 million to build one of the longest suspension bridges in the world, which will link a town of 70 to a town of about 100 that sits 4,500 feet away, on the other side of a magnificent fjord. This is a country that is pouring $680 million into its new Opera House.

The Opera House, it is worth noting, has been a subject of discussion for almost 100 years. Norway waited so long to build it that Oslo found itself in the embarrassing position of being the only European capital without a modern opera house. That may explain why the typically restrained Norwegians—a people with a deep-seated suspicion of attention seekers—are, well, going for it. Norwegians claim that when the venue is finished (in December, six months ahead of schedule), it will be the most technologically advanced in the world. Each seatback will have an LCD panel offering libretto subtitles in a choice of eight different languages. Onstage, humidified air will keep voices and instruments resonant. And overhead, a $1 million, 5,800-piece chandelier with 8,000 LEDs will help direct wayward sound waves toward as many as 1,400 patrons seated below.

Most fantastic of all is that you don't need a ticket to enjoy it: In another act of glorious pedestrianism, the roof of the Opera House will be an outdoor park. It will slope up out of the salty waters of the Oslofjord on a gentle grade, and will be clad in 36,000 slabs of white Italian marble. The idea is that the public will walk all over it. They will run, sit, nap, read, make out, listen to iPods, and watch the sun set from atop the Opera House. Office workers will come here on their lunch hour and hike right to the top, which is so high and white and commands such an excellent view of the fjord that standing on it feels like summiting a glacier. There are even plans to hold summer concerts on the building, not merely in it, with an outdoor bar during intermission. And just in case somebody spills his glass of red wine, the marble has been sealed to repel stains.