Europe 2025 - Norway
- Tim Madison
- Apr 28
- 41 min read
Updated: May 8
Oslo – April 28
We begin the day in Leipzig, Germany. We aren’t going to sleep there tonight. We need to get to the Leipzig-Halle Airport by 9:15 or so. A train goes directly to the airport. Curiously, that isn’t the way to do it. A quick check of tickets at the train kiosk reveals £82 one way for two. Leipzig has an app for taxis, inspired no doubt by Uber and Lyft, which gives us a cost of £55. The train would make sense for a solo traveler. More than one in the party? Taxi is the answer in this case for both cost and convenience.
Leipzig airport isn’t a hub but it is a very slick facility for a regional airport. Easy to get around, no crowds, modern, clean and tidy. The security people need to check my PC for explosive materials before giving me the seal of approval, otherwise all goes smoothly. I don’t even get a pat-down for artificial knees. Disappointing. Before we can go north, our proper direction, we have to go south 45 minutes on this Lufthansa puddle jumper jet to the big flight hub, Frankfurt. This is a gigantic airport covering 8.9 square miles of territory. The terminal is the size of a small city. Don’t go off in the wrong direction there, retracing one’s steps can be very time consuming. Our route leads us through acres of duty free zones where mountains of brightly lit candy, booze, and perfume go begging for customers. Here there’s a layover of about 2 hours. Lucky us, we get to use the business class lounge where drinks and snacks are on the house. For me, a couple of Campari spritz & some peanuts and I’m good to go.
Our leg to Oslo is on a larger plane, some Airbus model. CK and I have an open seat between us which makes a lot of difference comfort-wise. I’m learning that no matter how hungry I think I am, I’m never hungry enough to enjoy airplane food. CK accepted the lunch from the attendant. I waved it off, opting for vodka & tomato juice. I think I had the better deal. CK left most of it uneaten. A two hour flight gets us there. We’re on the ground in Norway by 4 pm.
At the Olso airport we merely have to collect our luggage and find the train, which has a station inside the airport. Once on board we do a high-speed glide directly to the Oslo Central Train Station which is a little bit bigger than the Leipzig Hbf but way more modern. No hassle. As we find our way through the station we stumble out into what feels like the middle of Oslo. Our hotel is a 12 minute luggage drag away. We must consult Griselda, the disembodied voice of Google, for walking instructions. It isn’t a difficult walk but there are some cobblestones. Our luggage acts like petulant children pulling our arms because they saw an ice cream shop across the street. CK vows to hire a cab for the return trip. I think the worst town for cobblestone is Rome. Bruges may be 2nd. Luckily we didn’t have luggage drags in Rome. In Bruges we did.
The weather here couldn’t be better. The daffodils are just freshly out at this latitude, unlike Germany where they are all going off the bloom now. The leaves are a little tighter on the trees. Summer is slower to appear. We need to appreciate the blue sky because the sun will probably disappear behind clouds tomorrow. Rain is threatening to interfere with our sightseeing plans. But sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. We won’t borrow trouble. It will find us soon enough.
We have time for a small repast of soup and salad in the hotel’s restaurant. The salad was fresh and good, but too much dressing for me. We both tried their fish soup. I now realize that all chowders and fish soups will be forever tested against the ‘benchmark’ fish chowder at Nesbitt’s in Dublin. Ye gawds. The best.
We have no time to explore Oslo except for a 20 minute walk after dinner. Sleep is to be wished for since our day begins at 5:30 am. Tomorrow we’re off on a packaged adventure called ‘Norway in a Nutshell’. This will involve a bewildering series of transportation methods and we must schlepp our luggage in every phase.
Bergen – April 29
Bergen is where we end the day, not where we start it. Oslo is our beginning point, The Bondeheimen Hotel to be precise. We had a decent night of sleep, relatively quiet. There was only one drunken madman careening off the buildings at 11:30, a lot fewer than Leipzig and he collapsed into his coma a lot sooner. This morning, we have to be moving with the crows to catch a train. There’s time for a hotel breakfast, Norwegian buffet style. Granola, almonds, fruit, coffee, and toast. That’s all I indulge in. The table offers a lot more, as if it wants to coax forth our inner glutton, but closer inspection reveals the foreignness of it all: yoghurt that feels too much like sour cream and makes my teeth feel weird, a number of cold sliced meats made of assorted, unidentifiable animal bits, cheese the texture of library paste, other things that, if I tasted them, would crush my appetite until lunch. Not a bad idea, come to think of it. It’s well that we aren’t tempted to stay and graze on everything because the train won’t wait. We are eating and running.
A taxi to the station, CK raids a pharmacy, and we find our train on track 3, leaving at 8:15. We’re doing “Norway in a Nutshell” which could also be “The Scenic Route to Bergen”. A travel service arranged everything, pretty much. We just need to follow directions and keep our various tickets sorted. This trip will take all day and drag us through some of the best scenery in Norway, they tell us.
This train stops at several villages along the route but when it gets up to speed we’re zipping along at over 110 mph. As we approach the higher ground the pace slows, of course. We rise above the tree line to 1200 meters as we cross the Hardangervidda plateau. Here it is still solid winter. Lots of compact snow and the lakes are still iced over. Our endpoint for this leg is Myrdal, a hamlet in the mountains that consists of not much more than a train platform. We grab our luggage, step off the train, across the platform to another train. This one is the Flam Railway. This will take us from the altitude of 866 meters to sea level through a couple of mountains and 20 tunnels. At one point a tunnel makes a hairpin turn, 180º. We must trust them on this because it is impossible to feel the direction change. We hear the brakes squealing madly reminding us of the steep grade. Whenever we pop out of a tunnel there’s spectacular scenery to take in and poof, back into another tunnel. Halfway through the train stops for photos at the Kjosfossen waterfall. But we do spend a lot of time riding through the guts of a mountain in the darkness.
Arriving at Flam we’re at sea level and at the head of a fjord. With luggage in hand, abandoning the train, we join the queue for the next leg, a fjord cruise. This is an electric powered tour boat for 400 passengers that hums serenely past all kinds of scenic splendor and about 72 waterfalls. That’s a guess but not an exaggeration. The weather is misty, with cloud hiding the tops of the peaks, also sending more water down the cliff sides. The boat takes 2 hours to get us to Gudvangen. Grab the luggage again and hustle through the rain to get on a bus, this time. We’ll be an hour plus on this mode until it dumps us at the Voss Railway station. Luggage drag to another train. Another two hours of scenic rail travel and we arrive at Bergen, about 7:30 pm. 11 hours of ‘Norway in a Nutshell’.
This has been an interesting day. The main attraction is getting to see more of Norway in one day than I ever thought possible. Despite the weather, the scenery did not disappoint. And more waterfalls than Olympic skaters have ever produced in the Kiss n Cry zone.
Our hotel in Bergen is Zander K, just two blocks from the train station. CK is hungry and wants to find an Italian joint but we’re too tired, somehow. We didn’t do much of anything all day but be transported from place to place in various conveyances, yet here we are ready to fall into the arms of Morpheus asap. We settle for a small meal at the hotel’s restaurant because it’s handy. They serve tiny, designer food here, so it will be a small meal no matter what we order. No fish n chips to be found on this menu.
I doubt there will be drunken madmen in the street here. But the night is young.
We’re here in Bergen for two sleeps.
Nope, spoke too soon. This time it is 3 drunken madwomen careening off the buildings and a low-rider blasting 2000 amps of hip-hop through his double ultra sub woofer which thumps the windows on our 6th floor. HA!
Bergen – April 30
We’re rising late-ish because we have no appointments to keep, no guides to meet. This is nice, I think. We have a chance to just follow our noses, wander some streets, and let impulsiveness inform our behavior. I will also regard it as a day to sling the cell phone cam around a little more freely.
Breakfast is in the hotel. Again, a buffet thing with much of the same strange Scandanavian cheese and meat items that I don’t want to spend my daily calories on. I will give them credit for bread. Here the bread has some good life in it, far better than we experienced in Scotland, Ireland, or Germany which features bread with all the quality of Styrofoam blocks. Another item of note: the hotel seems to be hosting international diving teams. These are men and women of Olympic age and fitness from Austria, Hungary, Poland, Sweden, and Germany at least. There may be others I haven’t spotted yet. I mean to say, the breakfast area looks like it has been attacked by a regiment of Hippos intent on hoovering every morsel. Luckily, I only need a few bits of fruit, tea, and toast which I find as discarded crumbs left behind by the thundering horde.
We have an idea to walk to the harbor to get a view of the old Hanseatic League buildings. This was a medieval trading network between market towns in central and northern Europe starting in the 12th century. The last ship left Bergen for Germany in the 18th century. All that business and shipping left a mark on Bergen. Some of it can be seen in the preserved structures near the harbor and beyond. These days this zone still does a hopping trade business but this time the focus is on selling trinkets, t-shirts, and ice cream to tourists.
Away to the north of the old trade buildings is a sturdy, square, stone building. Upon further inspection we find that this is the Rosencrantz Tower. Inside, we are invited to tour it after paying the outrageous fee of $17.50 US each. I should note that we are becoming numb to this. Norway is bloody outrageously expensive, not just in the tourist zones but everywhere. There is no escape. I’ll mention some examples as I go along. Anyhoo, this tower dates to the 12th century in terms of its origin. King Eric Magnusson was the last Norwegian king to hold court there until his end came in 1299. After that, various fates befell it until Norway was conquered by the Danes. A fellow named Rosencrantz rebuilt it in the 1560’s. This was right in the period when Shakespeare might have become aware of him, pilfering his name to attach to a minor mysterious character in Hamlet. I can’t confirm this, I’m just riffing, but you never know. Later, in the 20th century, 1944 to be exact, a Nazi ship loaded with ammunition blew sky high in the harbor. The shock from the explosion took much of the tower down. A taxi driver told us a tale about how the blast sent the anchor from the ship to the top of one of the ridges surrounding Bergen. The Bergen city fathers thought enough of the old castle to put it back together again, making it a museum. This is what we toured today.
Of course, it has a dungeon. This is the second dungeon we’ve visited on this European trip, the first being in Czechia, the Loket Castle. It is a forsaken, lightless hole that no self respecting ghost would bother to haunt. Up in the nicer spaces of the tower we find some antiques and a few pieces of medieval artwork. There’s a nice view of the harbor from the rooftop. The impression I took away had to do with spending a medieval winter in it. Even as a royal residence it must have been drafty and colder than Lee’s handshake with Grant.
CK has a ticket to ride the Ulriksbanen cable car. It came with the ‘Norway in a Nutshell’ package. We’re a few miles away, so we hail a cab. Our driver is Hakson, a middle aged gent who voluntarily points out things of interest as we pass them. He’s the guy who tells us about the anchor from the German ship that rests somewhere up the mountain. As we pass a sagging 19th century wooden church, he points out that this was last used as a hospital where a Dr. Hansen identified the leprosy bacillus in 1873. Taxi drivers, barkeeps, and barbers. These are the guys who can deliver some added value to a tourist experience. Better than one of those Hop-On, Hop Off buses, hiring a chatty, native driver for an hour just to drive around town is worth the cost.
Hakon gets us to the cable car in good order. CK sorts the tickets with the lady in the booth. I hear a west coast voice behind me in the queue. She is from… Seattle. For a moment it feels strange to be speaking English with someone other than CK. The cable car is comfy and large. It’s about a 7 minute ride to the top. From here we get views out beyond the many peninsulas and islands that make up this part of Norway. It’s a maze of waterways out there. There’s a paraglider floating about and hikers moving out along the connecting ridges. We’re not so ambitious. Lunch is happening at the café. There is no menu except the one you get on your phone via a QR code. Also, that’s how we are asked to order. Ok, I went ahead and did it. I ordered through the phone because I must learn how it goes. We’re running into more food joints that do it this way so may as well keep up.
Back down the hill in the cable car and hail an Uber (actually a taxi) to get us to our next inspiration, a museum back in the harbor tourist zone. As we turn into the museum, CK notices a church with its door open. We abandon the museum and invade the church because, well, you know. This church has parts of it old enough to have Green Man but no luck. I’m still able to find some bits of artistic effort worthy of photos that isn’t specifically religious.
After the church we attempt the museum but it’s no good because there’s only 10 minutes left until closing. We may have a chance to see it when we arrive back here on the cruise ship / ferry next Wednesday. It depends on how much time we have left in the day.
CK wants a nice dining deal tonight, so we’re going with a recommendation from the tour people. This is in the Fish Market zone near the waterfront, Fjellskál, and this place is all about fish, big surprise. Our orders aren’t fancy. CK has cod loin. I had no idea cod have loins. I'm smarter now. I have a side salad and a dozen oysters. The food is quite nice, well prepared, all tikkety-boo, service not bad. The remarkable thing again is the cost. I’m not going to publish what we spent there but suffice it to say that those were the most expensive oysters I have ever done. When we were in Reykjavik a few years ago, I was expressing shock about the high Icelandic prices with some other tourists. “We’re from Norway. We come here for the bargains.” We just need to adopt a firm philosophical acceptance because we’re in Norway until May 9.
Tomorrow we’re on a train back to Oslo. It’s an early departure and a long ride.
Oslo – May 1
Bergen. The Zander K Hotel. I’m up early and making plans for the hotel’s breakfast zone at the moment it opens. In this way, perhaps, I can get ahead of those lazy diving teams who will be sleeping in like teens and 20-somethings always do. I’ll have a quiet moment with my tea, toast, and fruit before we hop that train to Oslo. I’m in the elevator all alone on the 6th floor going down. By the time I reach the lobby floor, the car is packed with dive teamers from France and Croatia. It isn’t 6:30 yet but the buffet is already mobbed by slavering two-legged locusts and their entourage. Add to that, a bewildered herd of Japanese tourists staring in wonder at the robot coffee machine that has totally run out of supplies. My quiet morning has become an exercise in people watching. I manage to score some tea which is alright because the coffee here sucks.
The train is a little late. A crowd of passengers line up to get through an artificial bottleneck at the train platform. There is construction work going on, so things are a little messed up. For those who don’t have a reserved seat, it will be a sprint with luggage to find a spot to park their butts on the train. We’re ok in that department, but it serves as a reminder to continue to make those arrangements.
The train is, thankfully, not overheated like many we’ve taken, mostly of the German variety. I don’t know why German trains are stifling with no air circulation but that is how they usually are. This Norwegian train car has a nice comfy atmosphere even if the seats are too narrow. There’s a group of 4 very chatty Norwegians behind us but to us it’s all gibberish. In a way I’m glad I don’t understand it.
For hours we seem to be racing at 100+mph exclusively through tunnels or avalanche sheds. We’re gaining altitude, then losing it. The fizziness of our inner ears lets us know when the altitude changes. Toddlers are using the aisle for sprint training. Parents take turns chasing them down while the other sleeps. This is a 455 mile trip taking just over 6 hours, almost the same as a flight from Reykjavik to Seattle. And with the train’s motion at this speed, a little bumpier. The bar car has beer and wine if we want, but that doesn’t seem like a good idea. The food offerings are bleah. A bag of crisps and water is chiefly what we go for. The scenery is fascinating when we get to see it, which isn’t often in the mountains due to all the tunnels. Once out of the hills, we see trees, pastures, and tidy farms which is all rather familiar to us, since we live in Western Washington State. Lots of hills and greenery. I imagine this would be much more captivating for a person who only knew the landscape of, say, Nebraska. At last, the train pulls into Oslo and we’re ready for that. In a wink we’re through the terminal and on the street, leaning into the luggage drag to the Hotell Bondeheimen.
May 1 is International Worker’s Day. Also, May Day, a celebration of spring. There are usually demonstrations and speeches focusing on labor issues but this time it’s something else. As we march up the street away from the train station, we arrive at the plaza opposite the Domkirke (big church) where a Pro-Palestine crowd is gathering. A group of nonchalant police are hovering in obvious ways just in case someone gets excited. With bullhorns and drums they are warming up for a march down the avenue we’re on and we don’t want to get caught in it. We bump up the hustle. We want to get checked in and steal a few winks before our date tonight.
On the schedule for the evening is a dinner cruise around the harbor zone. We only have an 8 minute walk to the boat. Weather is pleasant so we don’t need our rain gear. The boat is modern and all electric, very much like the one that took us from Flam to Gudvangen. Olso is situated at the end of a very long fjord. This offers protection from the inconveniences of raging North Sea weather. It also means that it has a vast harbor making for an engaging dinner cruise. We are enlightened by the size of Oslo’s coastal area and how the city rambles on beyond what we’ve already seen. On the other hand, they are going to serve us food on this boat. As we are to learn, this will be tiny designer food again. Now that’s not always a bad thing unless a person happens to be hungry, or just feels like some honky comfort food for a change. At those times it doesn’t seem to fit. We booked this cruise weeks ago with no idea about the food. I don’t suppose dinner is really the point. What they really wanted to do was sell us drinks, which weren’t included in the booking.
The appetizer is boiled red cabbage with dabs of aioli and unidentified crunchy bits. CK has one nibble, followed by extended chewing. When this action is complete, she is moved to share the story of how, long ago, she had 4 wisdom teeth removed all at the same time and how the hangover from this experience caused her to miss the next day at her brand new job engendering a chewing out from her boss. “I take it you didn’t care for the appetizer,” I observe. “It’s like eating tin foil without any dressing.” She offered her plate to me. I decline; however, I cleaned up my serving purely for medicinal purposes. The main course is a piece of steamed cod on a bed of shredded, boiled, green cabbage. This was good fish, although not cooked enough for CK. She ate it anyhow out of sheer hunger more than any other reason. Dessert was an idunnowhat custard like fluff in an edible cup. It features lots of fat and very little sugar. Scandanavian fare is quite bland, generally. At restaurants they do have Tabasco hiding somewhere and will bring it if you ask. We don’t think they will on this occasion. Why am I thinking about hot sauce during dessert?
Our cruise is over after a little more than 2 hours. It was worth it to see just how extensive and orderly the Oslo port area is. But we need to get back to the hotel and turn in. We catch an early train to the airport, then a flight to Kirkenes. The Norwegian adventure continues.
Kirkenes – May 2
Oslo. We begin this day at the Hotell Bondeheimen. It is moving day. Oslo airport will briefly host our ancient selves before a jet flings us north to the absolute far reaches of Norway. Airport is busier than I imagine but also a low stress experience. The security guy at the metal detector began ordering me about in Norwegian. I had to use my magic phrase, "Jeg snakker ikke Norsk". He chuckled and gave me some equally awkward English together with hand signals, as directing traffic. He was testing the paws of a young lady for explosive chemicals. He needed me to move as I was standing in front of the machine. He didn’t bother testing me, which is understandable. She looked like dynamite and I look like a neglected dust bunny.
There's no lineup on the taxiway so we're in the air directly and settling in for a 2 hour flight. The attendants waste no time rolling out the food offering which could be called brunch-ish if one is in the mood to be charitable with descriptives. A cup of yogurt with a packet of granola to mix in. A box of sandwich material: cheese, lettuce, cherry tomatoes, and a wafer of mystery meat. The bun is ok. Also, a tub of butter. CK is impressed by the quantities of butter provided in all situations in Norway so far, including this one. Quite satisfactory, by her standards, which means that there's enough to sculpt an obese mountain troll in solid dairy fat. For me, this airline dish is reasonably edible except for the tomato which tasted like someone asked an AI bot to build a food replicator out of Legos.
As the plane drops down below the cloud deck we can see that winter still has a grip on this place. We are 69º North. Welcome to the Arctic Circle. The earth is hidden under considerable snow cover. Kirkenes, pronounced Heeyeerkaness, the 'H' is the sound of a cat's hiss with authority behind it, kind of like clearing one's throat in preparation to spit. It has something to do with Churches because Kirk means ‘church’. Population, something between 3-4,000. 10% of them are Russian. There are also Finnish speakers in the area. We are 15 minutes drive from the Russian border.
A taxi takes us from the airport to our hotel, the Scandic, in the center of town. My impression of the area is that of a moonscape, flattened, squeezed, and tortured by the weight of the last ice age but fighting back with stunted birches and determined pines. The town itself looks as if it gave up trying to fight the winter a long time ago. As we walk around the gritty streets I’m reminded of the Mission Ridge Ski Area parking lot in March, a mix of icy puddles, gravel, and rivulets of melt water threatening to invade your shoes. Every vehicle has been splashed with muddy slurry for days, each layer drying over the previous one until you can’t see the paint through the solid coat of dirt. What is the purpose of washing a car in this environment? Forlorn, is my word for Kirkenes at street level. I suspect that the big tourist draw here is winter for those who want Aurora Borealis viewing. I think they build a snow hotel in the winter where people book in to sleep in the ice. No chance of seeing the Aurora now, of course. The sky will not be dark enough here for months.
Snow is in the forecast for tomorrow. Things are warmer, I think, inside the café. Our lunch is modest. We split a fish & chips at a likely spot. Its street appearance has that forlorn, winter beaten look, but inside, nice and tidy. Our hotel has the same character, dusty, muddy, gritty on the outside but functional on the inside. The guy at the service desk is from Germany. He is chatty and curious that we are US people. He said he once had ideas to visit the US but now not so much. Like many folks we talk to he doesn’t understand what the f*** happened. Sadly, we don’t have a satisfactory answer for him. We simply confirm that it is best to stay away, and probably for a long time, as well.
A slushy rain blesses the proceedings shortly after we check in, making any ideas for a walk less inviting. We may have an early roll up on the day here. Good that we have eye masks. We’ll use them as there will be no real darkness. Dinner is in the hotel’s eatery which isn’t bad. The food is ok but nothing special. CK's medium rare steak came out well done. My burger could have been one large patty, not two small ones. Our server is a young lady from Ukraine, charming but not chatty.
We’re only here in transition for the next phase of our Norwegian Adventure which is float in a boat. We’re boarding a large-ish ocean-going ferry tomorrow which will take us back to Bergen over the next 5 days.
Kirkenes – May 3
Scandic Hotel. We had a nice sleep-in this morning for two reasons, (1) because our only real appointment this morning is to catch a cab at 10:45, and (2) because we don’t feel like we’re missing anything in this town, which our very outgoing receptionist yesterday described as “The Arse” of Norway. Curiously, that must mean that the nation must be oriented with its head down toward the south and its bum to the north. Anyhow, there’s nothing much here to look at unless one wants to tour old WWII bomb shelters or hang out in the tiny shopping mall. Galoshes, which we don’t have, would be appropriate equipment to wander the streets, due to snow melt puddles and salty grit. Add to this situation a blustery, overcast day with the occasional sideways snowflake. We’ll pass in favor of an indulgent breakfast in the hotel which provides lots of great bread but NO toaster. This is the third time we’ve encountered such a sprawling omission.
Our cab arrives early, most likely because the driver had nothing else to do, and we’re being delivered to the cruise ship in 10 minutes. If the streets weren’t alternately strewn with ice, slush, and gravel we could have done a luggage drag to the boat. Nope. Taxi it is. This is the Havila Capella, a rather spiffy vessel which had its maiden voyage in 2021. It is powered by a combination of LNG gas and batteries, super quiet with no engine vibrations. Upon check-in, our young receptionist applies her upselling skills and charming demeanor. She offers a junior suite in place of the standard view room we booked at a reduced price. “In for a penny, in for a pound!”, CK declares and we are shown directly to our luxury digs. Balcony, queen bed, couch, two chairs, desk, fridge, tea service, nice bath. Percs include dining in the better of the two restaurants plus a bottle of bubbly. Woot. We don’t deserve this unless we do, in which case yes, maybe.
We have been on, let me count them, 3 other cruise-ish trips. A boat & bike on a barge in France: our room was a little smaller than a Volkwagen interior and the toilet/shower combination would have made a phone booth seem like a ballroom. A Viking cruise on the Danube: accommodations were intimate and awkward but manageable with only the occasional stubbed toe. The chief problem with this cruise was the fact that we spent more than 20 hours of it NOT on the boat but on a bus. * A Norwegian Line mega cruise of 5,000 humans from New York City to Quebec City and back. We had steerage quarters, the smallest possible room, no windows, no chairs, no desk, two beds, small closet, and room to turn around. We are not fans of cruising. We view cruising as a why-would-you voluntary imprisonment on a barge full of food and viruses. Except this time. This cruise seemed like the best way to see the famous coastline of Norway, some of the fjords and coastal towns, you know, the same fjords that Slarty Bartfast earned awards for designing in ‘Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’.
The ship glides out into the bay with an electric hum. We discover our lunch, in one of the ship’s restaurants, small plates and tiny designer food again which seems to be begging for a Michelin Star with every nibble. The neighbors next to our table are Steve and Laura from Tennessee. Later, there’s an orientation meeting where a lady shows us what to find on each deck.
Some hours later we call at the town of Vardo but only for an hour. We can jump off to look around if we want. There’s an 18th century gun fort within walking distance and we need a walk. We’re cozy on board but outside the wind is a steady 15 knots, wind chill in the low 20’s. CK dons the puffy jacket covered by her high tech windbreaker. The way is slippery on the ice and slush punctuated by puddles. Always fine gravel underfoot. Houses are mostly wooden and again with that forlorn look that speaks of brutal weather and darkness. We hustle along but our gloves are helping only in a minimal way. Numbness is working along our fingers. “We’re walking for health purposes!”, she says. I feel soooo healthy. Healthier every moment. It is good to feel the firm steely grip of the arctic spring, no? Vardo yields some photos of ancient military installations and curious graffiti-like art plus a hint of satire. We’re back about 10 minutes before the ship pushes off.
Dinner is at 6. Food was good, bland, and tiny. There was a mushroom soup I felt was worthy. CK had fish. One could certainly eat all they wanted here but the message from the chef seems to be “Go small and explore the subtleties.” This is quite the opposite of that Norwegian Cruise to Quebec City where the food troughs were throbbing 24/7 with unholy quantities and those who were there to eat it. On the Havila Capella there’s about 250 people plus crew. The boat seems almost empty, very quiet, and comfortable. There is some motion of the ocean, so to speak. I came supplied with ear patches and some tablets to deal with it, just in case.
We call at two more towns before midnight: Batsfjord and Berlevag but we’ll sleep through it.
Norway, Barents Sea – May 4
We’ve spent our first night aboard the Havila Capella, a cruise ship. We booked it months ago without knowing very much about it. It was described as a ferry service that took passengers. It sounded to us, at the time, like it was primarily a freighter or a car ferry, that tourists could catch a ride on it and sail from Kirkenes to Bergen. As such, we presumed that our accommodations would be spartan and amenities brief to nonexistent. This is not the case. This ship is made exclusively for passengers and operates as a pleasure cruise. Its only route is between Kirkenes and Bergen making 31 stops in between. Many of the stops it makes are to coastal settlements with difficult land access. In some cases, local Norwegians use this boat to get from one place to another because it’s just more convenient to take a sea route. In that sense, it is a ferry. Although it provides a service to the region, its bottom line is to take cruise passengers, high season being winter. Aurora Borealis is the main attraction. The operators promote their Northern Lights Cruises with a guarantee. If there are no lights or you get nothing but cloud cover, they’ll give you another cruise gratis.
Today we had our first breakfast on board. We are seated in one of their on-board restaurants, very clean and quiet, only a few other tables occupied. There is no buffet. This is the first accommodation on this trip that does not offer one. We order from a short menu with limited choices, which is ok with us because we’re never going to ask for a full English breakfast. The food is good, not brilliant. Here’s one of the non-brilliant bits. We ask for toast. They deliver cold slabs of white bread with just a hint of a darkness on them. They are gummy, so much so that they effectively resist being cut in half. We load them up with butter, which lies there unmelted like a road of yellow bricks in a Judy Garland movie, and then heap them with raspberry jam in a shallow attempt to extinguish the bread’s influence. The rest of my breakfast was tea, sausages, beans from a can, a hard boiled egg. I don’t need more than that, really, but as I stare at it I feel like I’m in a nutrition boot camp and this is my mealtime discipline for weight loss. Neither do I ever plunge all out into those big hotel buffets. I think it’s simply that the excess of food on display projects a sense of luxury and plenty. We eat mostly with our eyes.
The ship has stopped at several towns already. The next one is Hammerfest. It’s claim to fame is being the northernmost city in the world, although that gets some pushback from other towns, namely Honningsvag since it achieved town status in 1996. At 70.66º N, the midnight sun begins May 15 and lasts until July 31. This ship had to go north from Kirkenes to get here. We’re allowed to get off the ship and look around but we only have 1 hour and 45 minutes to get back. The concierge offers a bus to take people to town for a look about, visit the church, look at statues, etc but we opt not to. There’s a 10 minute walk to a monument placed on the Prime Meridian so we choose that just to stretch our legs a little. It turns out to be a slippery stroll across the compact snow and ice. Wind chill is still a factor. The Barents Sea isn’t famous for its balmy breezes. We find the monument, get our pix and scram back to the boat where there is warmth and lunch.
This is our second cruise lunch. Now we realize that the menus will be identical for every meal. There will be no Pizza Night or Curry Special. With that reality taking place, we both settle on the milky Norwegian fish soup with the olive oil drizzle that seems to be served everywhere. CK asks for the Caesar Salad, I ask for the green salad and French fries. Ck’s salad comes with chicken bits that are curiously bad, as in overcooked and tasteless. I know because she gave me two of them. My potatoes arrive, which are quite nice, and the fish soup, which is fine for what it is. I accept the Norwegian style here, although I would not prepare this version for myself or my guests. The green salad never arrives. That’s ok, I’m not put off. I’ll order another at dinner.
CK has plans for the evening. The boat will arrive at Tromso at 11:45 tonight. There will be a music presentation at a church there at midnight. She wants to take it in but I’m going to pass mostly because I usually end up fighting sleep at these kinds of situations. This one being in the middle of the night would magnify the issue. She should bring back a proper selection of photos to document it. Tromso will be our 11th port of call already.
I have some time before dinner with an idea to spend it at the deck 9 bar. It’s a nice lounge above the bow, generous picture windows all around. I’ll have a drink and edit photos. I ask the barman for a Bailey’s coffee. “Coffee and Bailey’s together? Whipped cream?”, “Yes to one, no to the second.” “Ok, have a seat. I’ll bring it to you.” 30 minutes later, no drink. And he isn’t busy either. He makes a few drinks for other folks but no spiked coffee for moi. CK finds me with a reminder that we have dinner in 15 minutes. I decide not to remind this barman about my order. I’ll order something from him tomorrow and watch what happens. Maybe he just hates me?
Back to that salad I didn’t get. Turns out there’s no salad on the dinner menu to make up for it. This is the same menu as yesterday, as previously observed. There won’t be variety in our meals because of all the items that seem unappealing like trout sashimi and reindeer. For tomorrow’s post I’ll look for other menu items that we skip straight over.
We have some sun peaking out about 6:30 blinding everyone on the starboard side. It has the effect of lighting up the frozen tundra around us as the land features are quite ice covered. We are now sailing south, toward spring.
Norwegian Sea – May 5
The first thing to tell is CK’s absence from the ship at midnight, early May 5. Or late May 4, however one wants to think of it. We’re docked in Tromso. There’s a musical recital in a nearby church. I’m taking a pass, as previously confessed. I didn’t attend, therefore CK brings back a description and photos. There were three musicians, a keyboard guy (organ, harpsichord, piano), a flautist, and a vocalist. She said it was all very professional and well rehearsed. I know that she particularly liked the thundering tones of the church organ, her chief reason for going. #2 reason was to get inside another church since so many of them in these parts have been locked. There’s nothing like a Lutheran church decor to amplify the purity of depravation and thumb a righteous nose at all baroque styles.
She gets back on board in the wee hours. This calls for a sleep in but not too much. After breakfast we are to hustle to shore to board a tour bus for 4 hours of sightseeing. I didn’t sign up for it in advance, not wanting to spend time on a bus but changed my mind at the last moment and hopped on anyway. Our guide on the bus kept up a monologue about what we were cruising through. It was awkward as he was switching between Norwegian and English. At times he’d get the two messed up, and blurt out some Norwegian in the middle of the English translation. He was an older gent. Often guides like this are full of jokes and silliness. This guy was struggling too much with English for that. Harstad is where we start. There’s a University here, oil production, government buildings, agriculture. These are the new activities to replace the herring fishery that died out in the 1970’s due to overfishing.
There’s a functioning Catholic church to be visited together with a museum, a medieval farm house, and a Stave church reconstruction. The bus dumps us out and hustles us to the Catholic church where a fellow hands out leaflets with the Lord’s Prayer printed in 4 languages. Just beyond is a priest in full Sunday Smock & Stole. We’re about to be ambushed. After we’re all in our pews, Sir Priest entertains us with prayers and a hymn. Thankfully this is the world’s shortest sermon cooked up especially for tourists. If he had cracked the Bible and started reading passages, I was gonna be outta there faster than Joe & Mary on a Holy Ass. This building had origins in the 12th century which means it is in the right period for Green Man to be part of the adornments. But this is too far away from that kind of European culture. No Green Man is possible here. The walls and ceiling are quite blank. The only complex deco is in the altarpiece and the stained-glass windows above it. Most interesting is the graffiti carved into the church’s side door. There are Norse runes here, the pagan sort. YAY!
About ¼ mile from the church is a replica of a medieval farm house. This is made of stone and lumber with sod for roofing insulation. A costumed guide greets us, invites everyone inside for an explanation of what life was like for the medieval family who lived here. One would assume that she is Norwegian but no, she is Ukrainian.
A few steps away is another replica, this time of an old fashioned Stave church. The interior is paneled with a particular pine wood which has a strong, pleasant odor. Also, this space features zero décor except for spooky carving of J.C. being crucified installed up by the ceiling. There’s a baptismal font and an altar. That’s about it. I’ve read about Stave churches but didn’t really understand them, until now. I feel smarter. They smell terrific.
Back on the bus, the guide is talking about the landscape, filling time. I kinda wish he’d be quiet but we’re going to hear about local industries, famous gents, witch burnings, and even complaints about a hoarder who insists that his acres of rusting cars and rotting farm equipment is his private collection of industrial art, not a public nuisance. The bus makes several ‘photo stops’ along the way. This must be for panorama pix of the impressive peaks that surround us. However, this is not happening because cloud and mist cover everything above 1000 ft. A stop is just a leg stretch and an opportunity to harass some magpies.
At one point the bus is loaded onto a ferry which carries us across the fjord. On board the ferry, we’re served a cup of tea and a Norwegian waffle adorned with a slice of that brown cheese. I ate the cheese and it didn’t kill me. Yet. The waffle, was, shall we charitably say, past its prime and so not to be considered representative of the culture.
Our bus rolls off the ferry and we're back on the road again. These tour folks are clever enough to coordinate our crossing a bridge at the same moment that the cruise ship passes beneath it, giving us an aerial shot. The ship will tie up a few miles away and our bus will meet it there. If this doesn’t make sense to you, that’s ok. It just means that I’m not being very clear.
We’re boarded back on the boat right at lunch time. All I need to do now is refer you to the lunch we had yesterday. The menu hasn’t changed and neither have our preferences. After food we need naps because there will be another tour after dinner.
We’re awake at 4 pm because the ship is passing through a particularly spectacular narrows. Snowy peaks are rising straight out of the ocean up to 1000 meters. The sun makes a peek-a-boo appearance which adds extra drama to the clouds. Celestial.
Our evening meal is another repeat performance, however, there is some snafu in the kitchen causing my order of mushroom soup to miss the mark. So, if you’re keeping score at home that’s a salad, a cocktail, and a soup that have failed to register in the culinary department so far.
The ship has stopped at the town of Svolvaer. After dinner we must hustle to get down the gangplank to find our guide on the wharf. He is Andreas, the general manager of a local beer brewery, Lofotpils. We don’t have to get on a bus or anything. The facility is only a few meters away from the boat. He does a fine job explaining the about water quality, the different ways malt is handled, and how it affects the various beer styles they produce. From the ‘Its-a-small-world’ department, he imports some of his hops from our zone, Yakima. We get a thorough tasting of 5 of their beers, all quite worthy.
It’s been a long day and we’ve covered another fair bit of Norway, notching some bucket list items that weren’t even on the list. Tomorrow we’ll be stopping at 6 more towns. Only one of them looks like we’ll stay long enough to go ashore to explore. That said, we’re getting really great sleeps in our quarters. There are no city sounds, such as sirens, drunken madmen bounding under our window, low riders blasting their exhaust pipes, testing the limits of their sound systems. There’s only the hum of an electric motor somewhere beneath us.
Norwegian Sea – May 6
We have no plans today, no excursions, no imperatives except that of avoiding idleness. That idea is a fail. Idleness is our master today. Our friend Barbara calls this a “Robe & Slippers Day.” We’re finding it very easy to fall into that behavior. This ship is very quiet both in ambience and the usual human monkey business. There are no children, no casino, no stage acts, no dances. The food is a little weird. This is to be expected in Norway, just about everywhere except the larger cities. Even Anthony Bourdain panned it. We aren’t cruisers. We don’t think of cruising when we plan a getaway. We didn’t know what we were getting into when we booked it but has turned out to be quite a pleasant surprise. CK says this is a cruise for the cruise averse.
Speaking of food, we hit the breakfast again. These are sit down affairs with servers dashing between tables. There is no buffet. CK orders scrambled eggs. She expects them to be cold like yesterday. They arrive looking like something between curdled yellow buttermilk and lumpy custard. This time they are somewhat warm but not in the manner of freshly prepared. These eggs, and practically everything else, has that chafing dish feel about it. I opt for a hard-boiled egg but it really is an excellent soft boiled egg. The toast is, again, that cold stiff slice that is suspiciously difficult to cut. I also ask for pancakes just to be different. Three small crepe-like creations arrive. They are edible but still look like they’ve been basking under a heat lamp for a while. Portions are petite and often decorative, which isn’t a bad thing. We don’t need much food anyway. So far my impression of the culinary experience here is that of airplane food that has been jacked up a little.
We’re sailing back into Spring, crossing the Arctic Circle boundary earlier today. We have left the frozen tundra behind us and we see actual trees now with leaves on them. We have more breathtaking scenery to take in. We point our cell cams at it hoping to capture some of the awesomeness. There are some things that these handy cameras just cannot manage. This landscape is one of them. I’m posting photos of it anyway, just because. This ship stops in 6 ports today. We stay on the boat because the stops are short and the towns look rather industrial, not exactly tourist attractions. We haven’t had any rain or storms so far and the cloud deck today lifted enough to view the 1000 meter peaks as we cruise by. As we proceed south we see fewer peaks capped in ice.
There are about 250 passengers on this ship. We hear different languages, including English, but for the most part, people here are Norwegians, except the Deck 9 bartender. He is Finnish and speaks no Norwegian. For me, there’s nothing familiar about Norwegian. It reminds me of Icelandic which sounds like Vogon poetry recited backwards. I still must use my magic phrase whenever someone addresses me in Norwegian. [ Do I look like a Norwegian? ] The magic phrase is “Jeg snakker ikke Norsk”, I don’t speak Norwegian. Sorry.
When we came aboard on May 3, we were presented with a bottle of champagne and two flutes, kind of welcome gift thingy. We didn’t drink it until today. We sipped half of it in the observation lounge, brought the rest to the dinner table. CK ordered a meat dish, duck I think. I asked for gnocchi. CK’s dish was ok but my little dumplings arrived with only some leafy garnish on top. No sauce at all. Weird. To moderate the situation, I requested demi-glace from a server, which came promptly. Gnocchi in demi-glace is probably not a thing. I’ve never seen that on any menu anywhere. All I know is that with the sauce the dish became edible.
Tomorrow will be our last full day sailing the seas. We arrive in Bergen in the afternoon on Thursday. Tomorrow morning the ship calls at Trondheim. This city has a large-ish cathedral that CK wants to see. A bus will take us there but need to be ready at 7 am. It will be sightseeing first, then breakfast back on the ship where the hunt for a proper hardboiled egg continues.
Norwegian Sea – May 7
When we awake the ship is gliding into Trondheim harbor. The public announcement advises those who are going on the cathedral tour to get down to deck 4 pronto. It’s about 6:45 am. I’ve had a cup of tea and that’s it. We’ll get our official breakfast when we come back aboard at 9:00.
We’re loaded on a bus with a guide who will talk us all the way to Nidaros Cathedral, one of the primo attractions here in Trondheim, pronounced Trond-Hame. We’re all English speakers on this bus. No Norwegian or German translation to muddle our brains, so there’s no excuse for not learning anything. I will challenge that proposition with little effort.
Trondheim is a good sized city of 220,000 or so. It was founded in 997. This area was as far north as the Viking civilization went. Beyond this, to the north, the Sami people held forth. In 1681 a fire swept through the town and leveled pretty much everything. For that reason, the oldest buildings date from late 17th century. During reconstruction, some streets were widened with the idea of mitigating the spread of future fires. We aren’t let off the bus to inspect this stuff because we’ve got a date at the cathedral.
The big church we’re going to see has its origin in 1070 as a monument and burial place for Olaf Haraldsson, the first king of Norway. This guy was a Viking who traveled in Europe enough to become convinced that Odin was a loser and Jesus had the magic sauce. He came back to Trondheim (Nidaros in those days) a converted Christian, pitching his new belief and punishing anyone who didn’t like it. He was a brutal fellow and cultivated scores of enemies. He was killed in battle in 1030 and considered a martyr by the faithful. Somehow, he swiftly acquired sainthood having something to do with his corpse appearing quite fresh after having been buried for a year. The original church was begun in 1070 and was finished in 1300. The ‘welcome pilgrim’ signs went up because that’s what happens when a saint’s bones and a church are stitched together. By the early 19th century it was in bad shape having been devastated by several fires. In 1869 the project of restoration and expansion began. They’ve been at it for more than 150 years. Most of what we see is from that new construction. The stonework looks clean and freshly done. It doesn’t have enormous windows like other big European cathedrals but it doesn’t need them. The interior space has a bright, open feeling. Cleverly placed artificial lighting helps the effect. Apparently, there was some confusion along the way because they lost track of Olaf’s corpse. They don’t know where he is any more or whether or not he’s still minty fresh.
Inside the church we have another official guide who gives us a good grounding in the history and the architecture. There is a small section where the original 11th century walls and Romanesque arches still exist. The rest of it is a 19th century copy of a Gothic church. But this is a Lutheran zone so there isn’t much in the way of decoration. I go looking for the gargoyles as they offer something more fascinating than the multiple displays of a J.C. being tortured to death. Gargoyles are here but there’s no sign of Green Man. He probably isn’t a part of Norwegian folklore although one would think he should be. There is one baroque element to break up the stiff Lutheran style and that is a pipe organ in one of the transepts. It’s their spare organ. It has the option of being operated by hand powered bellows in case of electrical failure. We would love to hear it but nothing doing this early in the morning.
After the obligatory tour through the gift shop we are loaded back on the bus and brought back to the ship just moments before it pulls away from the wharf. This is our last excursion on shore until we get to Bergen where they kick us out.
Back on the ship we’re in robe & slippers mode again. All there is to do is eat, sleep, read, and gawk at the scenery as we drift along. Lunch is very similar to the other lunches. Dinner will sneak up on us too quickly because we’ll have spent significant time napping. CK is developing guilt pangs for her laziness. I’ll get that feeling also, but I just have a beer and wait for that feeling to go away.
This ship will have 6 more stops before Bergen: Kristiansund, Molde, Alesund, Torvik, Maloy, and Floro. We’ll be staying aboard since these are all whistle stops.
Dinner was mushroom soup, fish stew, and an Aperol Spritz just like last night. Tiny portions but, somehow, I leave the table with hunger pangs defeated. That said, I would pay real money for a BLT with crispy bacon and mayo on my own bread.
Tomorrow this cruise halts at Bergen and we are set ashore to wander back to our island. I’m ready.
Norwegian Sea – May 8
Transition day. We only spend part of this day aboard ship. At about 3 pm the boat docks in Bergen and we are put ashore to fend for ourselves. That’s what it feels like after being a guest of this cruise line. We haven’t had to pack and drag our luggage for the past 5 days. We sit at tables and food appears. We lounge in our room and watch amazing scenery pass our window. Thirsty, the bar is well stocked. Questions? The concierge has answers. Want to explore? They have excursions. I think we were expecting a more rustic experience and got some 5-star pampering instead. Surprise!
Two months ago, I was concerned that I would need sea-sickness meds. I acquired some and used them for only a couple of days. I didn’t need them at all. There were no storms. The heaviest seas we experienced were only about a meter high. Some of it was flat calm like a lake, even glassy sometimes. I am aware of Murphy’s Law, subsection 86, which states that if I hadn’t been prepared for sea sickness, it would have seized me like a dog with a chew toy.
Today our skies are solid gray with occasional spits of rain. We don’t touch Bergen until 2:45 pm. Meanwhile, our cruise takes us through archipelagos of islands and reefs, many uninhabited and some that could be if they weren’t protected by law. The misty weather doesn’t last. Soon it gives way to high cloud, filtered sun, and easy sailing. The weather, the air temperature, and the sunshine pattern has changed every day while moving south. By noon we can lounge on the outer deck without a jacket. There’s no hint of chill in the air at all. After being in the Arctic zone, the northernmost town in the world, Hammerfest, the landscape around Bergen seems luxuriously tropical.
I’m here to lob some crit in the direction of the rock band Led Zeppelin, today. To be honest, this has likely been pointed out before but it’s an epiphany to me, so I’m gonna do it again. Here’s a slice of their hit tune “Immigrant Song”:
“We come from the land of the ice and snow where the midnight sun and the hot springs flow”
I have learned that the Viking culture extended no further north than Nidaros, today’s Trondheim. This settlement is well south of the Arctic Circle. It would never have experienced the midnight sun. Even Iceland is south of the line. Robert Plant would claim poetic license, for sure, but he’s also guilty of promoting historic inaccuracy. Busted!
The verdict is in and I’m a fan of Norwegian beer. The sad thing is that it’s not generally available in our zone. Given the current state of affairs as arranged by Cantaloupe Caligula and The Felons, that won’t soon be corrected. At the Loftopils brewery, Andreas gave us a juicy detail about the old Viking culture. Farmers were required to brew strong beer for the solstice celebrations. It needed to produce a solid buzz. If it failed to do so, the farmer could suffer an amputated hand. If they failed again, they could lose their farm and be banished. By the 10th century, King Haakon the Good put this law in writing, adding that possible banishment might include being sent to Iceland. A farmer was not allowed to be a bad neighbor, that is, go cheap with his barley. I don’t know why I mention this detail…? Just sayin’.
At last the ship arrives in Bergen. Time has come to waddle our overly indulgent selves off this tub and into a cab that knows the way to the Hanseatic Hotel near the Fish Market. They are expecting us, we book in, all is well. This place has some funk value. It’s a boutique hotel, wooden beams and wallpaper, uneven floors that creak, plank walls of 300 year old wood. We’re also in the tourist zone which means we’ll be getting the sounds of the city again after having been completely without them for the past several days. Roaring motors, shouting, techno dance music, sirens, madmen wandering the streets in the wee hours. That’s ok. Tomorrow we’re outta here.
After check-in we have some hours left of the day. There’s a museum we wanted to see last week but it was closing when we discovered it. We’ll revisit it today. The Bryggens Museum features archaeological finds from the city back to the early 12th century. We also learn that the city burned half a dozen times since then. Each time they rebuilt after shoveling the debris into the harbor. There was so much debris after so many fires that they could build on it.
Tonight’s meal was at To Kokker here in this tourist zone. We aren’t complaining. This is a very charming tourist zone. I had oysters, CK had steamed halibut. The oysters were quite briny and delicious. The halibut was a little overcooked but they didn’t kill it. We stopped for a nightcap at a funky bar that seemed to be a favorite of locals. I had a nice Norwegian single malt. Yikes. $30 a shot.
Tomorrow will be a long day. A noon bus takes us to the Bergen airport. About 3:30 pm the plane lurches away toward Reykjavik where we will cool our heels for 3 hours before the next flight takes us to Seattle. A day like that may fry my brain but it beats walking.
This trip to Europe was one of the best. All plans worked out smoothly. Minor annoyances only added color to the blog. Thanks for following along with us, whoever you may be. Blogging will cease, for now, because we’re going home. Long distance travel and blogs will resume again next April, if we’re lucky and The Orange Menace hasn’t blown up the world.
Good luck and happy trails.
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