The Beauty That Is Norway

Thursday, August 31, 2006

Norway. Land of the Fjords. Undoubtedly the most naturally beautiful country I saw on this journey. I didn’t know exactly what a fjord was until I looked it up. According to Wikipedia, a fjord is a narrow inlet of the sea between cliffs or steep slopes, which results from marine inundation of a glaciated valley. Typical characteristics of a fjord include: a narrow inlet, a bottom glacially eroded significantly below sea level (allowing deep-draft vessels to navigate easily), with steep-sided walls which continue to descend below the sea surface and greater depths in the upper and middle reaches than on the seaward side. A fjord is formed when a glacier melts faster than it is moving, after carving its typical U-shaped valley, and the sea fills the resulting valley floor. The definition can’t begin to describe the beauty.

I collapsed after the twenty-four hour Road to Hell. There really wasn’t much in Hell – a train station, a few houses; all surprisingly quaint for Hell. It was a twenty minute walk to the “city side” of Hell, which technically isn’t Hell, though they still tout the name. There, across the bridge stood Hell Hotel. How could I resist a night in Hell? Actually, given the absurd price by European standards, I could have resisted if I wasn’t so damned exhausted and they didn’t have a wireless connection. At least I made the most of my money – I took a bunch of hot showers, a bunch of naps, drank several cups of free coffee, ate three days worth of food at the breakfast buffet which was definitely the best one I’ve had yet at any hotel, and worked every waking hour on the wireless signal with music videos on the TV and every light in the room turned on. By the time I left, I had recovered from the Road to Hell.

From there I took the train to Trondheim. My connection left me two hours to explore this third largest and oldest city in Norway. Once Norway’s largest and most important cultural capital, this city has taken a graceful backseat to the now larger cities of Oslo and Bergen. In its illustrious past, the town has been many things throughout history from the capital of Norway to Northern Europe’s primary pilgrimage site to the seat of the Archbishopric. To this day it is where Norway’s kings are anointed. The anointing takes place in the Nidaros Cathedral, undoubtedly the most impressive site in the town. It is the northernmost medieval cathedral in the world, the largest in Scandinavia, and is well-preserved along with the grounds and the Archbishop’s Palace which is located next to it. Unfortunately they charged for admission to the Cathedral - something that always chafes me a bit. Since it had been at least two countries since I lit candles, I grit my teeth and paid the $10 to get in. It is a beautifully preserved cathedral, simple enough on the inside, with a stunning rose stained glass window. Its unique quality, however, for me was the prayer basket. I hadn’t seen this before, or hadn’t recognized what it was if I did. They had little slips of paper to write your prayers on, fold and place in a basket that would then be placed on the altar during Sunday services and a prayer said for the prayers to be answered. How could I resist two-tier praying? I have accumulated quite the list of prayers on this trip for friends and loved ones. It is amazing how many have come true and how many others resolved though through different means than requested. I liked the idea of memorializing them all in writing and so spent close to thirty minutes writing in teeny tiny handwriting to get them all on one page. It feels good to pray, no matter who is listening.

While the Cathedral is impressive, the area along the bay with its rainbow colored wooden structures rising out of the water and sidewalk cafes lining the street on the other side was quite charming in its own right. Unfortunately, I had little time to linger but enjoyed my easy walk along the boulevard watching families enjoy the last ice-cream of the summer and couples embracing in the long shadows of the sun. From Trondheim, I took the train partway to Oslo before veering off at Dombas to the Rauma Line, reputed to be one of Norway’s most beautiful railway lines, and rightfully so. My only complaint was that in the three conversations had with train personnel about rail passes, schedules, and stops, no one had bothered to mention reservations were recommended. When I first boarded the train, one minute before the scheduled departure, it was half-empty. I thanked my ever faithful lucky star and took the best seat on the train in a four seat section next to a large picture window. But the train didn’t leave, nor had it left twenty minutes later. Finally 25 minutes after our departure time another train arrives and people pour onto the train I am on. I guess my lucky star was on holiday that day (a much deserved holiday given how hard it works for me!) The lady was particularly pissy with me for being in her seat. I caused a traffic jam trying to get myself and my bag out of the section and down the corridor where people were pouring into the two car train. When everyone finally settled in their places, I ended up with the only seat on the train that didn’t have a view. I couldn’t help but glare at the lady who had been so pissy that I had her seat and now had her nose buried in a book while some of the world’s most beautiful countryside flew past the picture window next to her. She never looked up.

I was getting a case of the grumpies and finally moved to the connector car where I could huff and stomp and press my nose against the little slit panel windows in the door. It was the best I could do. The terrain was stunning and as such had created great engineering challenges to developing a rail line to traverse it. The height differential between the railway line and the valley floor was resolved through the construction of “turning tunnels” where the train makes 180 degree turns before emerging beneath where it entered. In this way the train descends into the valley until it reaches the unique Kylling bridge, built in gneiss granite, which spans the River Rauma. The railway took ten years to build and has been in operation for over eighty years. Descending into the valley turn by turn, crossing the bridge over crystal clear water the color of pale turquoise, then winding back up again to pass a breath away from the Trollveggen mountain wall, a sheer cliff wall much like Eiger in Switzerland, kept me glued to the tiny slit of a window, snapping pictures in vain for most of the journey. Little did I know the train ride would not begin to compare to the bus ride from Andlesnes to Alesund.

I have to take my words from another post because I don’t know how to describe it any better than the pathetic attempt made previously. How do you describe a country this beautiful? These are the moments I wish I was a painter instead of a writer. For two hours I rode slack-jawed on the bus, flipping right then left then backwards in the back row - which thank goodness I had to myself - astounded by the blues. A rainbow of blues I have never seen before. Never imagined before. Deep, vibrant, full, pure. The water, the sky, the mist, even some of the clouds are all stunningly different shades of blue. The water ranges from the lightest turquoise to a blue so midnight it almost seems like oil glistening in the sunlight. But the blue-blue, the blue that makes up the water of the fjords, that is the most breathtaking blue you can imagine. Deeper than the purist lapis in the most beautiful Renaissance paintings of the Madonna’s robes. I have never seen anything like it by man or by nature.

I have never seen water so clear either – buoys atop the water look like they are floating in the air. The reflection so clear you can’t distinguish where reality ends and the reflection begins. Amazing. Simply amazing. And the air… the air is transparent. As air was meant to be….

I had no idea the bus ride would be so incredible. I had seen a picture of Alesund in a tourist book – quaint art deco buildings rising straight out of the water of a little inlet the town was built around. It was some version of Venice meets Victoria. I just had to see it. By the time the bus arrived it was after ten. Season ends in Norway the second week in August. With the tourists shooed away, the town was already sleeping, resting in that deep reprieve that follows any high season. There were no couchsurfing profiles in Alesund so I was looking at another night of hotel expense. With a travel budget of $30 a day for food, transportation, sights, and all, days when I have to do a hotel hit pretty hard. I stopped at the hotels near the bus station – all were over $100. The hostel was miles away with no transport and the backpackers lodge was full. It was looking like I’d be curling up on the side of the street somewhere. I saw the sign for a guesthouse. Hmmm, worth a try. The clerk took pity on me, offering me a $30 discount on the $110 room, well…. How could I refuse a kindness extended after midnight?

Now understand I had been wandering Alesund close to two hours, bags in hand, and didn’t have a clue exactly where I was in the town anymore. After 14 hours of traveling, I didn’t much care either. I thanked him for his kindness and dragged myself up to my room. My clothes were off by the time I walked from the door to the bed of the quaint white-walled, wood-trimmed room and I was dreaming in the fluffy down comforter and white sheets within ten minutes of having walked in the door of the hotel. I awoke the next morning, sunlight streaming through the double sided glass door that made up most of the far wall of the room. I wrapped a sheet around me, walked the two feet to the doors and opened them. There was no balcony, only an iron railing. The railing was there to keep you from falling into the water directly below. As I took in the surroundings by the light of day it dawned on me, I was staying in the very building that I had seen in the picture - the building that had made me decide to come to Alesund in the first place! It never ceases to amaze me the beauty of coincidences.

I got dressed quickly, took advantage of the delightful little breakfast buffet, and was on the streets within the hour. Little did I know that Alesund’s beautiful Art Nouveau architecture is known far and wide. Walking the streets feels more like you have been transported to the pages of a fairytale book than walking real streets. A fire in 1906 destroyed virtually the entire city at a time when the country was in severe economic difficulty. Donations poured in from Europe and the world to help the families who had lost everything – home, job, possessions. Amazingly only one person died in a fire that enveloped the entire town in the dark of night as they slept. Workers, architects, and engineers from all over Norway and parts of Europe poured in to help reconstruct the town. It is this uniformity of structure, painted with broad brush strokes of the Art Nouveau style that was sweeping the world at the time, that gives the town such a fairytale feel. Turrets, spires, beautiful ornamentation adorn the buildings painted in whites and pastels. The Art Nouveau Centre is interesting and uniquely done with a simple but impressive multi media approach to describe both the town’s reconstruction and the Art Nouveau movement in general.

Alesund is centrally located and thus a superb home base from which to explore the area around – most notably Geirangerfjord, considered by some the most beautiful Fjord in Norway. The tourist center is the most helpful, friendly center I encountered in the four months I traveled. They know everything and smile while they tell you anything you want to know. I was impressed. Of the sixty plus cities I visited on this trip it is one of the few I will return to for a vacation one day. There is just more to see than I could begin to see in the time I had (and on the budget I had, Norway is exorbitantly expensive). Unfortunately, I did not know when I went there how much there was to do from there and so had already planned to take the Hurtigruten that night.

I wandered all day, meandering through the streets, along the bays and inlets, through the back neighborhoods, even climbing to the top of Aksla, the town mountain, for a beautiful view of Alesund as well as the archipelago and the majestic Sunnmore Alps. The highlight of the day however was Edel at Trankokeriet Antikk I had run into an Italian couple at the Art Nouveau Centre. I grab every chance I have to practice Italian so we chatted several minutes about Alesund and the other places they and I had seen. Later that day I was walking through a virtually abandoned part of town along the water. One of the town’s larger five star hotels was just a few hundred yards back but as I continued down the street, the shops and inhabited buildings were clearly dwindling. I was just about to turn around when the Italian couple I had spoken with earlier emerged from a plain white barn looking building. “Ciao! Che piacere rivederti cosi’ presto!” Hey, what a pleasure to see you again so soon! We chatted for about ten minutes. They told me as they were leaving that I simply had to go inside and check the place out, that it was amazing.

I opened a creaky old white door to another world. There were antiques of every kind imaginable, all perfectly displayed in total disarray. One corner of the room was filled with nautical antiques, replete with an old boat and fishing nets; others were set up like Victorian living rooms with all the appropriate accoutrements. In the center there were glass cases and shelves overflowing with silver and jewelry, opium boxes, and any number of other smaller treasures. To the right was a bright smiling lady – about my height with a petite little figure dressed in black, short hair, and shiny, happy eyes. The side of the room where she was standing was a small café, pastries sat in the glass covered window with a bright, shiny cappuccino machine sitting nearby. Three bench style tables were arranged before the picture glass windows that looked out over the sea for the building was built in part on stilts rising out of the water. It gave you the sense of being on a boat on calm waters rather than in a building.

She greeted me in Norwegian. I apologized, saying I spoke English. She switched languages with the ease of flipping on a light and chatted with me as I perused the silver jewelry. To my shock and amazement, she had opened the place just two weeks before. It had such a lived-in feel – like it had been there since the reconstruction after the fire! No she laughed. The cappuccino machine had just been delivered that day in fact and she was still trying to figure out how to use it. “I can help you with that.” I told her. “Really?!” “Sure, I was a barrista in Italy for three months.” Now while this is true, it would be a long stretch to say I was a good barrista, mostly because I never quite mastered the art of foam. My milk was always too hot or too thin. I tried to teach her what I knew intellectually but never mastered physically, reassuring her it was just a practice thing – which it is, practice and a gift that I don’t possess. We laughed over the fumbled attempts and both drank our cappuccinos just the same.

Her spirit amazed me. She had taken a huge leap of faith, giving up a smaller little shop in the center of town to create a dream on the outskirts. She has a serious marketing challenge just getting people to walk the five minutes in the opposite direction of civilization. If she conquers that challenge, she’ll have it made. You can’t walk into this store and not buy something if for no other reason than to pay tribute to how well she has done it. I thought I had explored all the nooks and crannies when the phone rang.- “you haven’t seen upstairs yet” she whispered to me as the voice on the other end of the phone began talking. Upstairs? I hadn’t even noticed the stairway in the center of the room it was so surrounded and bedecked with lovely goodies. I made my way upstairs – it was less homey, more antique store, and absolutely overflowing with treasures. Thank god I don’t have a home (and a job), I would have bought half that store, easily. I came back down as she was wrapping up the phone call. “Oh, I want to show you the gallery,” she said. Gallery?! Sure enough there was a large stair well in the back corner of the building. She had lined the walls up all three flights with artwork by Anne Gunn Oedegaard. I’m afraid to say I don’t have much appreciation for art, particularly modern art. I see things I like, but they are relatively few and far between. There were four paintings by this artist I would have loved to own (again, how I appreciate the homeless with no job status. It makes shopping discussions so much easier – Me: “No. You don’t have any place to put it.” Me: “Okay.”)

It was the most unexpected find. This quaint, overflowing shop, this bright, overflowing spirit on a deserted street in a little town I had never heard of three days before. I bought a silver necklace, mostly to pay homage to her efforts. We exchanged contact information and I promised to visit Alesund again and see how the shop was doing. If you go to Norway, definitely make the time to visit Alesund and to visit Edel at Trankokeriet Antikk I’ll bet she makes the best cappuccino in town by then!

After my delightful antique experience I made my way to Dirty Nelly’s, a little Irish pub near the center of town. It was already getting cold in the late afternoon and I was craving a bowl of hot soup and a warm place to write. It was $13 for a bowl of water with vegetables and one piece of lamb. Cearly the owner didn’t understand the concept Irish Pub - namely, good home cookin’ at a good home price and lots of beer in a joint decorated with decaying ‘50s books and medical signs. He got the books and medical signs, but everything else was a little too posh for an Irish Pub, especially the prices. The soup was really quite good, especially considering there were only 46 cents worth of ingredients in it. Everything is absurdly priced in Norway so it was hard to complain much. Besides Van Morrison was playing on the stereo, the bartenders were friendly, and I had a nice window seat at a little table looking out on the town.

The late evening dragged as I waited for the midnight departure of the Hurtigruten. I chatted with another lady hanging out in the lobby of the hotel, obviously roomless and awaiting departure same as me. It is funny how you can leave your hotel room at nine in the morning and wander until midnight, never missing your room. But when you don’t have the room to go back to you feel like an orphan, lost and homeless. It would be no better on the ship. Two nights in hotels broke the bank enough, I wasn’t about to pay money for a cabin on the ship. I knew I could find a chair or corner somewhere to curl up and sleep. Sure enough I found a couch in a bar that was closed all night. I was so excited to find an empty somewhat hidden room, I grabbed it - making the mistake I know better than to make of not exploring a place in its entirety before deciding where to settle in. I didn’t realize – a) that there was no heat in this particular room; and b) that there were a zillion places to sleep all around the upper deck which had heat, a beautiful view and only three other people cabinless like me. Oh well. It was a terrible night sleep as I tossed and turned beneath my towel-turned-blanket having nightmares of Lapland – god knows why. I awoke grumpy and tired, squinting at what I could tell was morning light. I had no money for coffee and was rather peeved to find that when I checked in they hadn’t told me I could link my credit card to my cruise ship card so that it would make one purchase at the end and now they couldn’t. For me, there are few things worse than starting the day after a lousy night sleep without a cup of coffee! I decided to appease myself by finding the way outside and watching the sunrise.

And here words fail…. And yet what can I do but try – pure isolation, air clear as a hurricane swept island the day after, to the right islands dropped in the water like fall leaves on a lake, the coastline rising dramatically to the left, water sometimes blue like an autumn sky other times dark like oil shimmering in the sunlight, mirror-like images of the clouds above upon the water disturbed only by the ripples of our passing barge; nature dressed in her most beautiful gown accentuated only by her natural beauty. Amazing. Simply amazing. I took pictures. They could never do it justice. And if I took the picture that did, you’d think I did it digitally. This place is that beautiful – not because it is dramatic, there are places more dramatic; not because it is wild and unpopulated, there are places more wild; but because you look at it and you know THIS is how our world is supposed to look. This is how beautiful our world is when the air and the water and the land are untainted by man.

The Hurtigruten, or Coastal Express as it is also known, has been cruising the coast of Norway from Bergen to Kirkenes and back for over 100 years. Every day it leaves Bergen, threading the tricky sea channels for the 2,500 nautical mile round trip to Kirkenes, an outpost on the desolate Norwegian-Russian border. (Did you realize Norway and Russia share a border?). It was once the mail ship. Now it is a mixture of first class passenger vessels and local working ships. The entire cruise takes eleven days, though you can pick up the ship at any of the 35 ports it calls at and ride to any other, as I did from Alesund to Bergen. If you ever go, and you should, do consider carefully which boat you select. None compare to the Carnival Cruise lines of the world, the philosophy being the entertainment is the scenery outside the window laden decks, but some are more luxurious than others and all, it is rumored, have a different personality.

One day I will go back and take the entire trip up the coast. I had only two regrets on this journey - that I spent too long in Spain and that I didn’t take the bus from Finland to the north of Norway and the Hurtigruten down to Bergen. I can’t do anything about the first but the second I will rectify one day.