And there he is, strolling onto the balcony of his new £2.6million apartment, just me and Erling Haaland, on a leafy and deserted backstreet of Oslo’s most affluent district.

But first. Walk around this alluring city, where Nordic cool shines even brighter than the blistering sun, a tapestry of chic architecture, quirky drinking dens and young, radiant faces, and there is not a single trace of the Manchester City star.

No billboards. No murals. No neon ads illuminating Karl Johans street, with its mass of designer outlets. Even the Nike store showcases only female footballers in its window.

Yet, Haaland is also everywhere, chatter of his name swept through the tree-lined avenues by the breeze from the slate-blue waters of the capital’s bar-fronted harbour, one of his favourite hangouts.

Your eyes will tell you this country has not yet embraced its greatest sportsman, your ears learn that they are still coming to terms with his stratospheric rise.

There are few images of Erling Haaland around the city, but locals are starting to come to terms with his stratospheric rise

The striker is beginning to look at home in Oslo, where he recently bought a £2.6 million apartment

The Norwegian’s new apartment complex, attached to the Sommerro Hotel, boasts a roof-top bar overlooking the Oslo skyline

The Man City star has returned to Oslo ahead of Norway’s clash with Scotland on Saturday

Mats Arntzen, of newspaper VG, explains: ‘We are not used to having a superstar. And the big posters, they are not part of our culture. We are socialistic. It is a bit of a crash when we suddenly get this star.

‘It is called The Law of Jante, a Norwegian custom where you shouldn’t think you are better than anyone else. John Arne Riise was a victim of this, a girl on each arm, flashy cars, his character was not Norwegian.

‘You can maybe say the same about Haaland. Some people criticise him for political reasons, his association with City’s UAE owners and sportswashing, environmental concerns over his private jet, some sponsorship deals.

‘But because of social media and how things work in other countries, it is easier to be him now than it was 20 years ago.

‘Also, people here are pretty relaxed, a little shy. Outside the stadium after training, maybe 10 kids with shirts wait for him, it’s not like Justin Bieber or The Beatles. Elsewhere, it would be more extreme.’

Undeterred by the absence of mania that would have made for easy copy, I set off in search of the addresses where stories of Haaland could reside.

First, the modest £180-a-night team hotel in Storo, a northern suburb five minutes’ drive from the Ullevaal Stadion, where Norway host Scotland in a Euro 2024 qualifier this evening.

The sedative music of the lobby, serving only complimentary coffee and water, bears little resemblance to the Ibiza nightclub Pacha, where Haaland and Jack Grealish celebrated City’s Treble last weekend. The only cause for unrest is my presence.

‘Who are you looking for?’ asks a hotel security guard. Truthfully? Haaland. ‘The coffee machine,’ I reply.

Despite becoming a household name across Europe, locals are not used to their superstar

The Norway side are staying at a modest hotel just a five minute drive from the Ullevaal Stadion

Michaels nightclub is a popular spot away from the paparazzi, where Haaaland partied with Martin Odegaard after Norway beat Armenia 9-0 last year

Michaels’ interior boasts a dark and discreet theme for residents to unwind in

It is then that Geir Ellefsen appears, the former policeman and national-team security chief who stays closer to Haaland than most defenders ever do. Black suit, shirt and shades and cigarette in mouth, he is every puff of smoke the protagonist from a noir Nordic crime drama.

Of the relationship between Haaland and Ellefsen, one publication notes, ‘He is literally looked after like a jewel’. When Haaland went to buy a new iPhone following training on Wednesday, Ellefsen went with him, and not to advise on colour.

Back outside the hotel, the older man stalks the street, where a group of boys kick a ball and wait for Haaland. Ellefsen’s state of alert tells us the striker is close by.

Minutes later, the team bus returns from training and Haaland, Ellefsen for a shadow, shoots from it and into the hotel’s side entrance, white slippers hiding his face. That would have been his dancing shoes a few days ago.

I ask Stale Solbakken, the Norway boss, if Haaland’s partying has been a concern.

’No! It was a good idea,’ he says. ‘You can’t postpone a celebration like that. When he came here, he didn’t look like he had gone the Grealish way! So, if Grealish managed to train for England, he should also manage to do it for us!’

Next door to the hotel is an Odeon cinema showing Spider-Man – I wonder if Superman has been to see it? – and a Johnny Rockets burger joint. The Blue Moon burger feels apt.

A waitress, Sabrina, says that stars like Haaland call in for a juice but, so far, they have been unable to tempt them with a milkshake. ‘Too much sugar!’ She also tells a charming tale of once waiting at the hotel reception and suddenly being intimidated by security staff flanking her. She turned around and Haaland was next in line.

As we chat, Ellefsen emerges from the hotel. Haaland has been safely delivered to the sixth-floor games room where he bosses the table-tennis table. Is the ex-cop enjoying a cigarette break or, more so, keeping tabs on me? Either way, it’s time to leave.

The fashionable Sommerro Hotel shields Haaland’s quiet complex, away from the bustling Solli plass

The 22-year-old scored 52 goals in first season at Manchester City, helping them secure a famous treble

At Michaels, in the moneyed borough of Frogner, Haaland partied with team-mates such as Martin Odegaard and glamorous influencer Linni Meister following last year’s 9-0 victory over Armenia.

‘The Place’ declares a sign above the door. It is like stepping into Instagram, where beautiful people come to be seen, and Oslo has plenty of those. Jack and the boys would like this.

The basement nightclub has a jungle theme but, as staff explain, Haaland and Co feel safe. There are no paparazzi swinging from the trees, no intrusion.

In fact, that is true of Norwegian society. As journalist Arntzen says: ‘If we write about his hair, his girlfriend, flying in a private jet, it can become too much. There is a huge interest, of course, but we must be careful.’

Saturday’s game is a 28,000 sell-out and marks only the second time in 15 months that Haaland has played here.

‘Five years ago, they played Cyprus in front of 5,000,’ says Arntzen. ‘What happened? Haaland happened.

Watch, when he starts running and gets the ball, everyone is off their seats. We haven’t been to a tournament since 2000. Now, he gives us the belief we can get beat anyone.’

It is, then, a respectful worship, reserved only for sporting surrounds. Little wonder that, last month, Haaland – raised 300 miles away in Bryne – bought his first Oslo home, that pricey eighth-floor apartment.

The Scotland game will be a 28,000 sell-out, a huge increase on the crowds attracted five years ago

It will be Haaaland’s first appearance at the Ullevaal in the past 15 months

Norway haven’t been to a major tournament since 2000, but confidence is building given the talent they now have available

I arrive on the bustling Solli plass at the fashionably red-bricked Sommerro Hotel, shielding but attached to the 22-year-old’s complex. There is a fuss at the entrance to the development and a swanky people-carrier skids into view. Haaland? No, it’s American rapper Busta Rhymes, carrying a steel record case.

That was bonkers. We’re not done with bonkers yet, however. A concierge tells me there is a passage between the buildings leading to a courtyard. It is not closed to the public, so I wander through, just to get a feel for Haaland’s new habitat. Beyond this secluded plot and on the lawn of a nearby residence, there is the genial sound of a gathering – laughter, clinking glasses, house music.

I’m intrigued and so, too, is an athletic figure on a balcony up above. This sounds like his sort of party. And there he is, Erling Haaland, full Norway training kit and gazing out into a city where he is clearly starting to feel at home. Maybe it is that the big posters aren’t for him.

The curious eyes of a British journalist would not be welcome, either. With that, I adhere to the local custom and make a discreet exit. Anyway, there is a party to investigate. Only this time, Haaland does not show. And if he did? They’d leave him alone to enjoy a night in peace. Maybe this place isn’t for his pal Jack, after all.