The third and final installment of this pretty grand week in Norway took place in the tiny village of Flekke, in a fjord on the west coast a ways north of Bergen. A friend who lives and works on the UWC campus there had so kindly agreed to let me stay there (thank you!) while he was away traveling, so I had the place to myself for the last three nights of my trip. And what a gift it was.
To get to Flekke, I snuck out of my hostel in Bergen early the next morning and picked up some groceries at the supermarket, then boarded the Nordfjord ferry heading north through the fjords (go figure). It was cool and cloudy, and I sat inside at the front, watching the Maine-like, rocky, evergreen shores get progressively wilder and more barren. As I sat there I had one of those very reflective moments where I looked at my life and wondered how it came to be that I was cruising through these remote Norwegian fjords, by myself, eating a cinnamon roll as mountains emerged from the mist in a most mysterious landscape -- I mean, I don't think I ever anticipated that I'd ever be in this little corner of the world, but there I was. Thanks, life.
After a couple hours on the ferry, we landed at Rysjedalsvika and I hopped on a bus headed farther north. Except for a couple young American teens headed off to summer camp who fell asleep in the back of the bus, I was the only passenger throughout the whole journey, and sat at the very front where the view was the best and where I was least likely to get car sick. I took pictures out the window as we passed little coastal towns and large, still lakes.
The bus driver, who looked suspiciously like Jens Lekman (Swedish, not Norwegian) had spoken to me several times in Norwegian before realizing that I kept replying in English (a common theme), noticed that I had my camera out and when we stopped in one village, he quietly asked if I'd like to get out and take pictures, as we had to wait for a few minutes there. He was very shy about speaking English, and seemed to plan out his sentences carefully before saying anything. A while later, while driving up a winding mountain road, the landscape opening before us, he glanced at me a couple times and then stopped the bus, asking if I wanted to get out again. "Yes!" I exclaimed as he opened the door and I hopped out in a flash. When I got back on a minute later and thanked him, he asked, "Do you come from a place without mountains and without water?". I laughed. Plenty of water, no mountains. He smiled, then blushed and kept driving. After an hour, he stopped to let me off at Flekke and wished me a nice holiday. I would have liked to have talked to him more, asked him about his life what he did in that part of the world other than drive a bus that only goes twice a day, but instead thanked him again and gave him a smile that I hoped made him feel like he was my favorite Norwegian person I'd met that week, because he was.
From the intersection with the little supermarket that is Downtown Flekke, I continued north on foot for about half an hour, lugging all my stuff including groceries for four days up and down steep hills, passing farms and curious sheep.
Thanks to my friend's excellently detailed instructions, I found their place easily (and it was so perfect and beautiful -- thank you, thank yooou!) and promptly fell asleep on the couch. Later, I went off exploring the campus and surrounding area, until it started raining and I went home to cook up a fabulous fish and veggie soup with fresh spinach pasta, then drank tea and read my book while wrapped in blankets outside on the little porch, rain falling on the lake below. I was in heaven.
I woke up early the next morning and went for a walk, but soon turned back when it started pouring, the water streaming down the hill in waves. Stayed in all day as the rain continued. Cooked, read, napped. A perfect day. Went for another walk late that night and sat by the water as the campus lights come on across the water. The rain had coaxed all the toads out of their holes and I had to be careful not to step on them.
The weather had cleared by the next morning, which was fortunate as I very much wanted to go hiking, and as much as I had appreciated a couple rainy days, it would have been a shame to miss out on the all the nature right in front of (and behind, above, etc.) my doorstep. There were several marked hiking trails in the area, and I chose the loop that went up and over the mountain above the campus, Jarstadheia. The sun was shining brightly on the farms as I went up the road, the air deliciously cool and fresh after two solid days of rain.
This woman was standing in front of her home, looking out over the lake as I passed, as quietly as possible so as not to disturb. A lovely moment on a lovely morning.
The trail cut through fields and passed waterfalls, and finally entered a forest of tall, perfectly straight trees. The water droplets on absolutely everything caught the sunbeams, sparkles everywhere. It was magical, and every branch I accidentally walked into released its load and drenched me in a glitter bomb. Before long, I was soaked up to the knees, and that was okay.
Once at the top, the trail follows the ridge of the mountain for a while, cutting through a beautiful meadow with views stretching out over the blue fjords on all sides and the town of Dale to the north. The pictures don't do justice to this landscape, and while frolicking through the soft, green grass and purple and yellow flowers, past bright, red berries glittering with morning dew, snacking on wild blueberries, butterflies flitting and flotting left and right, clouds all awhimsy overhead, I tried to think of how I might describe it when writing about it later on. My brain couldn't get any further than lush & dreamy, lush & dreamy, lush & dreamy...
Picnicking across from this tree, boots and socks off and drying in the sun, I thought about how, if I believed in heaven, I might want it to look like this meadow on top of a little mountain on the west coast of Norway. Then I wondered when I'd see a rainbow on this hike, or pretty white horses, or other clichés that might be appropriate in this setting. Didn't see any rainbows, but had a nice chuckle when the horses showed up a while later.
A glorious day. Such the best. Followed by a glorious sleep, a walk back to the bus stop, an hour bus ride (was hoping to see my Favorite Norwegian Bus Driver again, but it was a different, equally genial guy with an impressive moustache), and a two-hour ferry ride -- this time spent out on the deck in the sunshine, the fjordy landscape in full view after shedding its misty cloak. Glorious.
Back in Bergen, it was hot, and the city was bright and bustling -- a completely different scene from when I'd walked its quiet, darkening streets in the rain a few nights ago. I still had a few hours before needing to catch the bus to the airport, so wandered around, again finding shady spots to sit and observe, seagull-watching, people-watching, listening to the birds talking and the people talking.
A propos Norwegian -- having a solid knowledge of English and German meant that I could read it surprisingly well, though, like with Dutch, understanding spoken Norwegian is a completely different story. However, I've now had a couple people tell me how easy it is to learn, and considering that my love for fun-sounding languages is ultimately what landed me in Germany in the first place, I may need to go back.
It was a beautiful town, and where Oslo had left me with a headache, I left Bergen wanting to come back and explore it more thoroughly, wanting to go kayaking in its surrounding fjords and hiking in its mountains. Perhaps I will someday. After all, there are direct flights from Hamburg.
Looking out the window as the plane took off that evening, I watched the sun paint the fjords in silver as we climbed up into the sky. Only an hour and a half later and we were swooping in over Hamburg -- there was the harbor that I loved with its cranes and brightly colored shipping containers, there was the UFO-like TV tower that always gives me a warm, homey feeling -- grateful for yet another grand adventure, and the first of several yet to come.
