In which there is so much wow in so little time (Norway part II).

This Sunday adventure spanned the most miles of the trip, as well as the most landscapes, high and low, from snowy mountaintops to green valleys, purple petal-lined tracks to waterfall after waterfall after waterfall, to fjords that felt like the Manhattan of the natural world. As I had booked it through a tour company (the famous Norway in a Nutshell tour), it was also the most touristy adventure of the trip, and one that I would need the next few days in a quiet place to recover from. 

The first part of the tour is on the Bergen Railway, where we traveled for about 5 hours from the suburbs of Oslo out past mirror lakes and rolling countryside, the mountains growing ever larger and ever more dramatic, the tunnels more frequent and longer, until you exit the darkness and find yourself cruising through a wild, rugged landscape of snowy peaks and gushing streams sparkling in the sun and flowers all abloom along the tracks and rocks, some of the world's happiest bikers pedaling the paths along the lakes. A fancy guide booklet was included with the tickets, so I read about the little towns as we passed through them. 

I had an aisle seat next to a very reserved Swedish fellow who tried several times to speak to me in Swedish and Norwegian before realizing that I kept answering him in English. As we were in the back of the train and I didn't want to invade his personal bubble to take pictures, I hung out in the end compartment for long periods, where I had windows on both sides and out the back door. What a gorgeous journey. I would take that route again in a heartbeat, and this time all the way through to Bergen.

In Myrdal we changed to the Flåm Railway, a line that has an elevation change of about 2800 ft in a span of 50 minutes, with the views on either side being pretty spectacular. This is where the super touristy part kicked in, and as we stopped by a magnificent, roaring waterfall and suddenly dramatic music started playing and a woman in a long red dress was dancing among the stone ruins above us, I wondered what I'd gotten myself into.

Once we reached the valley, we had about an hour and a half to look around the tourist center of Flåm before starting the next segment of the trip via boat. I was grateful for a break at this point, as we'd been traveling for about seven hours already and my brain needed a quick break to recover from all the power oggling it had been doing. 

When the time came, I boarded a swanky ship with many, many people from all over the world, and when an elderly but vivacious Spanish woman unabashedly elbowed me from my bench on the back deck, I took my things and made my way to the very front, staking my claim to some railing on the bow where I leaned for two hours as we cruised through the magnificent Aurlandsfjord and Nærøyfjord, the skyscraper mountains on either side poking at the clouds while the wind blew the waterfalls into the air long before they reached the ground. Villages nestled here and there at the base of the cliffs, dwarfed by the land masses towering above them. No sun, but also no rain. Just wind and a fully frozen me by the end of it, though I couldn't bring myself to go inside and miss out on the sheer act of being there. The pictures don't do this place justice, even on a cloudy day. (As always, just click on the photos for fullscreen.)

The ship arrived in Gudvangen with the first raindrops, and we all boarded buses that took us up and down tiny, winding mountain roads with -- surprise -- spectacular views, more waterfalls, the works.

In Voss we switched back to the Bergen Railway for the rest of the journey west, rolling through misty valleys dotted with sleepy towns. As far as the tour goes, you absolutely get your bang for your buck in terms of scenery, and I was glad I had done it, but will think again before booking a tour that involves being with hundreds of other tourists for hours on end.

It was 9pm by the time we got to Bergen, and though I was exhausted after traveling for over 13 hours, I didn't want to be in a hostel dorm room yet, so after checking in and dropping off my stuff, I headed out into the rain and walked around the old town in the gray, foggy, Scandinavian summer night. After all, the ad for Bergen had initiated this trip in the first place, so I wanted to look around before leaving early the next morning for parts north.

Despite the late hour, the fish market on the water was still bustling with activity. I warmed up with a hot fish cake from a street vendor before wandering over to the Bryggen side of the waterfront with its colorful old buildings and UNESCO World Heritage bragging rights. It was peaceful and almost tourist-free after 10pm, with the colors and lights reflected in the wet, wooden walkways and alleys. A black cat came to say hello, then disappeared into the rafters.

Trolls were a common motif in tourist shops, and this robo-troll fishing in a window was probably the most terrifying thing I saw in Norway, its grinning head and deep, dead eyes turning from side to side while the robo-hand slashed the air with the fishing pole. Yikes.
 

Once I felt done with being wet and being awake, I went back and crashed in the hostel for a few hours, then snuck out early the next morning for Norwegian Adventure #3.

In which we go to Oslo and below (Norway part I).

Once upon a time a couple months ago, I was waiting for the U-Bahn and saw a giant poster advertising direct flights from Hamburg to Bergen, Norway, showing the quaint town under a dramatic sky. At that point I had already notified my job of the last five years that I'd be leaving, and as I didn't have another job lined up yet, knew that I'd probably have some free time come the end of July. After passing the Bergen ad a couple times, I finally did some googling to see if the cheap flights were legit (congrats, you got me, Norwegian tourism industry). When I saw that they were, I was hooked. I'd been on short trips to Denmark and Sweden before, but had never been to Norway, nor had I spent any extended time in Scandinavia. This trip was to be the grand finale of the last many years of working full-time in the translation field, or perhaps the beginning to whatever new chapter of my career, life, whatever, lay ahead. 

After a few weeks of research and reaching out to friends in or experienced in all things Norway, I had planned a Grand Trip from the Oslo area in the east, then west to Bergen, and north to a tiny village that is home to a friend, all via plane, train, bus, ferry, and fjord cruise. On July 18 I had my last day of work, and on the 20th I was on a flight to Oslo. So it begins!

I arrived in Oslo in the morning and had a few hours to look around the city before meeting up with a wonderful Smithie who had so kindly offered me a bed at her place on the Nesodden peninsula south of Oslo (thank you!). One thing that I was not prepared for, even though I'd seen it in the weather forecast, was the heat wave that was very much present in that part of the country as in most of Europe. This resulted in a tour of Oslo consisting of me lugging myself from one shady spot to another. First to the swanky opera house on the water, where the tourists wielded selfie sticks, filming themselves as they climbed up the steep platforms around the building.

Then to the shade of a church downtown, the grass dry and brown outside, doors locked.

From there to a garden on the university campus where I snagged one of the last shady benches and a couple construction workers came to lunch on sandwiches they'd picked up at the nearby deli. The fountain was still burbling and the grass and other leafy things were still green, so it was clear someone had put a lot of time and waterpower into the campus despite the drought. 

 

After that I continued to the park behind the palace, where I hung out under a tree until it was time to meet my host at the ferry terminal. A little boy nearby was painstakingly moving the gravel from the pathway into a little pile on the grass, no doubt some special treasure in the mind of a six-year-old.

At the appointed time, I met my host and got comfy on the upper deck of the 25-minute ferry south, the breeze feeling delicious as the boat cruised along. After getting settled in at her place, we took a walk down a steep path to the Oslofjord and went swimming in the salty North Sea water.

That night on the porch, sky falling.

The next day, a Saturday, I'd originally planned on going back to spend more time in Oslo, but after my hours spent there the day before taught me that Oslo was hot, packed with tourists, and pretty extensively under construction, I nixed that idea and followed my host's recommendation to visit the village of Drøbak farther south down the fjord. Doing so required first flagging down a passing ferry (the only one that morning) from a tiny boat landing by waving wildly at it while a couple locals fished a few feet away. When the ferry honked that it had seen me and came in to dock for a moment, the locals put down their rods and pulled out their smartphones, and filmed it as it pulled up, swiftly put down its little walkway for me to board, and pulled it up again. I felt a little bit like a celebrity with star treatment to have this big ferry filled with people come fetch me, but mostly I just felt a mix of relief that it had worked out, and, well, awkward.

Anyway, I made my way up to the top where the rest of the tourists were taking pictures, found myself a corner on the railing, and delighted in the scenery for the next hour as we cruised from village to tiny landing to village to tiny landing south along the Oslofjord.

Drøbak is a super cute fishing village which, among other things, is known for sinking a German cruiser in 1940 from its Oscarsborg island fortress, thus allowing time for the royal family, parliament, and cabinet to be evacuated and the nation's gold reserve to be properly secured (thanks, wikipedia). Today it is home to many artists and thrives on tourism, and for good reason -- it is objectively very, very cute. An easy place to spend a few hours wandering up and down its narrow streets, snacking on pecan cinnamon rolls from the bakery, and sitting in the park built into the boulders on its northern edge, watching the boats go by.
 
The whole time there I could not get this song out of my head ("...Drøbak is, Drøbak is, Drøbak is a perrr... feeect... PLAAACE!!!").  

Anyway.

A peek inside the local library:

I was rather taken aback by the number of tourists there (myself included, I know, but at least I'm not loud about it), and after seeing the downtown area I found a shady spot next to the church to eat lunch. The side door to the church was propped open behind me, with the piano concert being played inside drifting out into the sunny afternoon, broken only occasionally by applause from within. 

Continuing back into the park beyond the church is where I found all the locals, the younger ones lined up and waiting to jump off piers and diving boards into the sparkling, deep blue water. Just another hot Saturday in Drøbak.

I made sure to get back to the ferry landing in time for the last boat of the evening, along with a zillion other tourists, and half-dozed for the hour it took to get back to my stop, lulled by the motion of the boat and early evening sun catching the water outside my window.

Once back at the house, I took advantage of it being July in Norway and went for a walk in the woods in the bright evening sunshine.

It was overcast when my alarm went off at 5-something the next morning, and I quietly collected my things and headed to the bus stop for the one bus to take me to the one ferry that would get me back to Oslo in time for my train. It was quiet on the boat as we cruised through light drizzle and a shifting pattern of blue-gray clouds.

There was still plenty of time before my train once we reached the city, so I took my time getting to the Sentralstasjon. Moseying from the ferry at Aker Brygge and past the Nobel Peace Center, I was taken by the statues of women in front of the city hall. In most cities such a prominent location would be home to a highly revered dude on a horse, and not women with all of the curves of real human bodies, and children. Looking up information about the square later, I found that they were done by a couple of (male) Norwegian sculptors, but nothing more. 'Course there were plenty of dudes in bronze all over the rest of the city, but this was still a comforting sight to see on a sleepy Sunday morning.

Definitely classier than the giant, inflatable bears hanging ominously above the streets of the shopping district anyway. HUG LIFE, and watch your back before one of these guys mauls you from above.

Once at the train station, I hopped on the train to Bergen, found my seat, and got settled in for the very long, very grand adventure that lay ahead.