Viking is the new Pirate!!

Thought this might be an opportune time to revive my old agenda. They keep bringing pirates back around (which are awesome, don't get me wrong) but they're sadly overlooking the glamour of Vikings. Spread the word, Viking is the new Pirate!

Well now I'm going to attempt to fit 2 amazing weeks in Norway into a single entry. Get yourself a cup of coffee, and expect a potty break before you finish reading. Or have someone else read it to you, things are more enjoyable that way.

It seemed silly in instantaneous retrospect, but being used to a relatively quiet Dublin airport I was actually surprised at first to see hordes of travellers in what should have been a few orderly queues but was more like a heap of unravelled yarn in the grips of a fiesty cat. Of course, it was 2 days before Christmas! Still toting birthday cold, I stood in line with my pack for what felt like hours, but soon forgot all about it once I was whizzing through security on my way to the gate. Uneventful flight... touchdown Oslo. Nighttime, the slightest coating of white over everything, a little more than frost but not deep, from the tarmack to the branches and needles of every tree on the way into town. I was booked into a hostel which I will mention by name, that name being Sentrum Pensjonat, because even though the rooms are shared the beds are single not bunks (which is like a million dollars to me at this point) and somehow the most comfortable little beds on the planet. I felt like I was a kid again in my grandma's guestroom, tucked in all snug on a cold night. I wished I was staying there 2 weeks not just 2 nights.

My first day in Oslo was a quiet, grey Christmas Eve. Took a walk around town looking in windows and seeing where everything was. Uncharacteristic of the rest of town, I wandered down one street with wares on the sidewalk & spilling out of storefronts that reminded me of one of the wider streets in Tijuana. Finding my way to the main road I was stopped in my tracks by silvery sound of someone playing a dulcimer of sorts. Not just any someone, a guy in a curly white wig (special Christmas get-up I suspect) seated at this upright instrument playing with the speed and energy of a crack fiend. If Greensleeves were a scribble on a bar napkin, his version was the illuminated manuscript.I followed the main road past a little ice skating rink where families and kids were having some winter fun, then wound around down to the waterfront. Everything grey & icy, but Norwegians seem to be avid gravel scatterers which takes the slip away. So far I'm thinking this town has a lot going for it. And by a lot I mean a waterfront. What else does a town need, really? On a scale of 1-10, a good waterfront gives an easy 8 to an otherwise pointless place. Especially a good waterfront with lots of boats to look at! Dark was setting in early in the afternoon, & after a few hours' wandering I started back for the hostel. There was a lone guy standing at the end of the harbour singing opera tunes; one sounded familiar and I thought, what's that song? Naw, couldn't be. Then the words started coming through the air, in all their operatic style, "they go running for the shelll-terrr of their mother's little helll-perrr" - Stones never sounded quite like this. I suppose Christmas Eve brings a quiet over any town as the day grows late and people go to their houses. The streets were mostly empty, almost silent. Then from down a lane I heard Christmas music trickling along from the ice skating rink. When I got to the main road I could see the lights of the square in the trees & around the rink, people whirling & gliding, warm and happy Bing-style Christmas songs moving them along and moving me along too. Back to the hostel and the world's most comfortable dorm for an early evening, a good book, a little warmth of my own.

I was a little nervous about missing the train from Oslo to Bergen or getting somehow delayed, since I was connecting the same night with the boat which I was going to be on for the next 4 days. A Christmas morning like no other, I woke to a quiet dark room and packed my bag as quietly as possible so as not to wake up the person next to me, then left for the station. I was pretty much on time (getting better & better at this) for the 3 or 4-minute walk to the station. Apparently I started feeling a little too familiar with the town a little too soon, and didn't stop outside the door to check my bearings. Perhaps I was subconsciously following that way-too-young German guy with the beeeautiful long hair; I honestly thought we were going the same way, & after walking along chatting for a few blocks I started to get the feeling that this was a few blocks too many. Starting to get anxious, checking the watch, looking around for the station which should have been visible... time getting short... have to turn right here, say goodbye, start jogging a little... onto the main street, 8 minutes till the train leaves, 4 blocks to the station!... running with pack on... tired sick body.... must keep running!.... 4 minutes to go... 3 minutes.... into the station.... 2 minutes.... pick up ticket at machine..... 1 minute.... down to the platform.... 0 minutes, train still there.... find a car & get on.... doors close, train begins to move.... find my car, find my seat, drop my pack, sigh relief. Ahhhh, I made it!!

Soon I was whisked away to a wintery wonderland, into the snowy mountains, through forests and icy tunnels, past ski areas and little villages. You could see lights and decorations in the windows of the houses, many of the windows with lighted candlestands that look like menorahs. (I was perplexed by this for a while till I was close enough to count 7 candles - didn't think there were that many Jewish people in these parts.) People were skiing right by the tracks and waving at the train. Snowflakes were falling and even better was the snow-dust coming up from the wheels & draft of the train like an epic winter journey. There was some little light like an LED several cars ahead at the top of the engine, flickering blue-white; it wasn't till another train passed that I saw it was actually a flame where the engine's contact met the cable above. With the quality of the light and the dusty snow and the white scenery around, it was pure magic. I put in the earphones, put on some Christmas music and soaked in some first-class white-Christmas mood!!

Not only did we arrive in Bergen right on time, but on the platform was a man holding a sign for transfers to Hurtigruten. I was tempted to make my own way to the terminal instead of paying for this kind of luxury, but had made it so far & didn't want to blow it! In no time I found myself checking in and walking down a carpeted hallway to my cabin for the next 4 nights. It was like a hotel - waaaay nicer than I'd expected (good thing I didn't know or I might not have booked it) - the cabin was more like a little hotel room, with bed & couch, chair & table area, tv, bathroom with heated floor, the works. What the heck, I could get used to this! After a little exploration of the ship I went into my cabin and put up a few little Christmas decorations, holiday music playing, and suddenly it really felt like Christmas. I don't know what it is about decorating and seasonal music. Last year it didn't feel like Christmas and I didn't decorate my apartment, & the holidays just came and went like nothing; maybe now I know what was missing.

On with the voyage (we've still got a long way to go!!). Dark nights transitioned into cloudy days. The bits of scenery I could get were absolutely amazing. Tiny islands everywhere, mountains, villages. I found a dream village about an hour past Trondheim, still green, with little red farmhouses and big open fields, a tiny harbour at one end, it was perfect. I later found out that the lack of snow up the coast was highly unusual, perhaps the least snow at this time in about 30 years. Things were smooth sailing except for one night, maybe the 3rd, when we had to skip a few ports due to stormy weather and waves up to 8 metres (yeah, like 24 feet!). The ship was rolling along and I was sitting by the window kind of peering out into the dark; you couldn't see much, but once in a while some lights would go by, and on this night something looking like a fairy dancing from the top of the window to the bottom, from side to side & in big circles, would turn out to be a lighthouse as seen from the tossing ship. I must have been at least half asleep, next thing I knew some glasses & plates people had left on a table were sliding off and I think I was reaching down to get them, then was on the floor with my chair and another one on top of me. I managed to pick up the chairs, get the dishes to a sink behind the bar, and myself back to a seat, and then started wondering what on earth had just happened?! I don't know what's the stronger sedative, sleep itself or the hypnotic motion of the sea.

Smooth going was soon to return though, and eventually it was time to disembark at Tromso. (There's a slash through the last 'o' but I don't know how to type it.) Tromso is referred to as the Paris of the North, but I was happy to see it was still small enough to be really nice. The main part is located on a small island with bridges going to the land on either side (they must have some expert bridge builders in this country with all the islands attached by huge sweeping bridges, almost works of art in themselves). We pulled into Tromso around 230pm and it was already dark as the middle of night when I stepped off the ship. Located just below 70 degrees N, this was my 2nd time above the Arctic Circle and the far point of my trip. The streets were spanned with huge garlands hanging between light posts, covered in little lights and with bright red hearts in the middle. The next day there was light in the sky when I got up, though it would be a few days before I actually saw the sun again. I had a few dusky hours wandering around town, across the bridge to see the almost iceberg-ish Arctic Cathedral, then back across to Polaria, a centre with displays about Arctic environments, aquariums and some resident bearded seals. It was all to easy to spend hours there. After the centre closed there were a few hours to spare before getting back on the ship. I took a walk as the evening got late in hopes of catching a glimpse of those elusive northern lights. It had been cloudy for most of the journey, and this was one of the first clear nights. Down to the waterfront (where else do you go on random walks) & staring up at the sky. I didn't see the lights, but what I did find was my old travelling companion Orion, which I've been missing for a few months, stretched right out in front of me and sparkling. Later as I donned my pack and headed back down to the dock, there were a few sparse but fat snowflakes drifting down around me, slowly and silently in the light of the garlands. This was no ordinary snow, this was Christmas magic snow.

I had never spent so much time on the sea at a stretch, and was wondering how it would go. (Having aspirations of living on a boat one day, this was kind of an important discovery.) My only regret with this part of the journey was that it would only be 3 nights down, shorter than on the way up; I couldn't wait to get back on board. This ship turned out to be a lot more like what I was expecting the first time - a glorified ferry of sorts, smaller & with less frills, a tiny cold cabin, non-slip floors & stairs instead of fancy carpeting, much more my style. One thing this cabin had that the other didn't, however, was the all-important porthole for bedside gazing out to sea.

What comes after Christmas? New Year, of course! And soon it was New Year's Eve. I was really hoping to find some glogg in Norway - that warm spiced wine I discovered a few years back at Nordic Yulefest in Seattle; so far there had been none to be found anywhere, but tonight my luck changed and they served it on board. It was soooo good, and I have to say that recipe I found must be pretty authentic much to my delight (I'm not ashamed to say I love my glogg, since it's someone else's recipe and really easy to make, I really can't take credit for it). Well I think it's fair to say that I didn't put myself on a boat in the Arctic in the middle of winter for social opportunities, but somehow I still ended up feeling like a wallflower at a junior high dance when it was brought to my attention that I was sitting all alone on the observation deck. I had decided that this was the night to splurge and buy myself a decent dinner (instead of the usual peanuts and little cafe sandwiches), so I ate and was full and grabbed a book and some other things to keep busy and headed upstairs to enjoy the occasional view. I had some good 90's music on, & hardly noticed when the room cleared out except to breathe a sigh of relief that I had a nice place to sit with a little solitude. I wasn't just ok with it, I was thrilled. But apparently the New Year's Eve buffet dinner downstairs was for everyone, not just people who paid for the meal plan, and when a member of the crew who I'd been talking to earlier came up to invite me to join in, I suddenly felt bad for being anti-social. Not that there was anyone I particularly wanted to or should have socialized with, or that anyone would care, but in my offering reassurance that I was quite happy where I was, I started having to fend off guilty feelings for being that girl in the corner. Suddenly it was myself I was having to reassure. Dang people, you finally get a little solitude and they ruin it by trying to be nice! Anyway if I hadn't had the place to myself, I wouldn't have later been entertained by two drunken Norwegians who apparently went out to buy beer and ended up getting on the ship because they knew the bar would be open, only to get off in a few stops and catch the next one going back. But enough about people. We were stopped at a place which according to the schedule we should have been leaving and I was a little irritated wondering why (motion is somewhat addictive, & when you're expecting it and it doesn't happen it can be a little frustrating; like when you're in the passenger seat and you think the driver has stepped on the gas and your head goes forward but then just hangs there because they didn't step on it after all... times about 100). But as it turned out, we were in the best place for the festivities. A few bangs and pops and whistles turned into a full-blown firework extravaganza from every side of the ship; there was a different show from every little town around the port and the sky was lit up with all kinds of colors & flashes for a good couple of hours. They handed out champagne and we toasted the New Year, and indeed it was a great way to start 2008.

I thought it would be kind of dismal, having so little sunlight for so long. And granted I only had a few real days of it so I can't say what a whole season would be like. But these northern days are absolutely spectacular. Morning and evening have to be the two best times of day - sunrise and sunset and the moments as the colours change and fade and melt from one light into another. Well here the sunrise and sunset are super-long, and there's none of that stale afternoon time between. Just hours and hours of change and beauty. The two best parts of the day back to back.

Alas it was time to rejoin the land for good, this time in the town of Trondheim. We pulled in around 730am and I found my way out of the somewhat convoluted dock area to a path into the centre of town. I love seeing a place early in the morning before the sun comes up. There were a few people walking and cycling to work, but it was fairly quiet. I found my way up the hill into the neighborhood where this hostel was located. The sign said they opened at 8am but everything was dark (this was about 815 I think). Being the day after New Year I waited around for a while in case they were on Sunday schedule or something. After 30 or 40 minutes a girl came out & told me that they weren't opening till noon as they were just returning from the holidays. Not making any fuss over the fact that they'd had my booking with arrival time for weeks and hadn't bothered to put a note anywhere or email me, I simply asked if there was a place I could leave my pack till noon. She said no, because she was leaving and nobody else was there; this while holding open a locking door which could have easily protected my pack for a few hours. Frustrated and tired from an early morning I headed back down the hill grumbling in my mind that I'd have to walk around in the dark & cold for hours with my pack on till the hostel opened. I started strolling down random streets to see what I could see, and eventually found a nicely lit cafe with people inside (a good indication that things are open!) and went in for a bite to eat and a warm drink. They had some good music playing, the food was good and the chai latte hand-made from a good half-dozen little containers, diffusers, stirrers... the morning grew light and the hours melted away like snowflakes. I walked back out into the morning and the cold hit my nose with that feeling like a backwards sneeze.

There's some kind of charm to Trondheim and I'm not sure what it is. From the minute I set foot in town it struck me as a very liveable place. It's not particularly photogenic (parts of it are, but certainly not all). Most of the buildings around the water and up into the neighborhood are very utilitarian with flat fronts that look like Colourbond (on closer inspection they're all wood panels); colourful but not exciting design-wise. The harbour areas cut deep into the town, but there are so many more powerboats than sailboats which in my opinion takes some of the charm away. Perhaps there's something about it that reminds me of Seattle. Except with only 40,000 people. The neighborhood where I was staying did have kind of a Phinney or Greenwood feel to it, and the semi-industrial view from the hillside out to the inlet might have added to it. Don't know, I just liked it. It felt good.

I had a couple of days to explore. On day 2 following a whim from a quick glance at the map, and then some pointed roofs on the skyline, I found what could be the most amazing cathedral ever. The realist would admit that not being surrounded by a city like Rome could have an reverse numbing effect and it could stand out by sheer contrast. But the stonework was absolutely incredible, with beautiful design and elaborate chandeliers on the inside, and hundreds of carved figures on the outside. Some of them were kind of morbid, people holding their own heads, or corners shaped like monsters with people trying to crawl out of their mouths while presumably getting eaten. I guess this is what happens when Vikings get converted. There was also a great music shop; I went in to look for some Norwegian drumsticks for my dad (apparently these don't exist, the Yanks do too good of a job) & ended up drooling over all the equipment. More hearts hanging in town, I'm not sure if this is a traditional decoration or if it's just a thing for this year. The ravens in this part of the world have funny accents, kind of chattery like the flying foxes in eastern Australia.

I wasn't super excited to spend a few last days in Oslo since I had already seen it, but from the minute I stepped off the train I was happy to be back. There was a ton of snow falling, the first real snow I'd seen yet. The hostel I stayed at this time (the first one was booked up) had some attraction for wacky people apparently, including a bunch of 60-70-something men who could sometimes get along and sometimes were on the verge of argument. One Egyptian-Norwegian, friendly to the point of starting conversations at 7am and quite eccentric. One Austrian who was obsessed with the door being locked at all times. One from somewhere in Africa who got really upset when the other asked him questions like, 'Where are you from?' I didn't know entertainment was included in the price. Fortunately among the crazies was one sane person, a young Australian who became my company for the next couple of days. One of those people with many facets, all of them sparkling, and a heck of a lot of fun to boot. Oslo covered in white snowy wonderland was like Christmas magic all over again. There were little kids on skis and being pulled by their parents on sleds (cool ones with seats like Christmas tree ornaments). No visit to Norway would be complete without going to the Viking Ship Museum. After all, vikings are a big part of the draw for at least this traveller. I didn't realize their history was so short; they sure made an impact. Later it was off to the sculpture park. A girl I had met on the first visit to Oslo said that she didn't even like art, and she thought it was great. Sounds like a ringing endorsement but now I realize you should not take art advice from someone who admits to not liking it. Let's just say it was very fleshy. Lots of naked people statues, all grouped together and not exactly touching each other in an indecent way but you'd certainly wonder about their intentions, at least for some of them. I love statues, and I really like seeing the way people create different physiques, but these figures weren't even interesting. The peak is the one at the top of the hill - a giant obelisk shape made of bodies stacked and twisted together. Quite a feat of manufacture I have to admit, but a big long flesh object standing in the midst of all these bodies... well, you get the idea. Really I have no objection to naked people in art. That is, in art. The views of town from up there were beautiful though. After slopping through the snow and slush for a while longer, it was time for a bite to eat. We opted for Subway because it was easy and filling. It's best not to think about exchange rates sometimes; when we worked it out our two foot-longs came to a total price of about $32. The price of travelling in Norway.

Last day in Norway, the snow turned to slush and mixed with the crud of the street till it resembled gingerbread with a coating of powdered sugar as new snow fell onto it. A little more time for strolling in the snow and taking a few more photos. What could be more beautiful than a harbour full of boats, all covered in snow! In the hostel lobby I stopped for a bit and heard Virgin Radio piping out overhead. There was a new song from the Eagles, and I was shocked that it really sounded like the Eagles. Not a comeback band, not a bunch of old guys trying to recapture their former glory, it really sounded like 'em. Have you noticed how many old bands are coming back right now - the Eagles, the Police, English Beat, Smashing Pumpkins, 'Led Zeppelin' (actually Page & Plant with company; I suspect they're using their old name because the last effort didn't go quite so well; they may be amazing and talented, but you can't say 2 out of 4 is the real thing)... and so many more. All really different but with this in common - they were big a long time ago, they were great, and now they're back. Why? Simple. Nobody is stepping up to the plate. The world is starving for good music, and nobody knows how to do it anymore. Maybe it's not anyone's fault; society changes, people change, the world changes, and with it all, expression often changes to match. But all these old guys are coming back because we need them; we need that great music again.

Anyway, at the end of 2 great weeks it was time to get back on the airport shuttle. The shuttle that takes as long to get from town to the airport as the flight takes from Oslo to Dublin. The shuttle with ads on seatbacks for flights to Poland that are the same price as this airport shuttle, and other ads for buses which go all around the country for 1/3 the price of this airport shuttle. Once again, it's good not to think about the price, just the memories.

It was on my trip to Iceland a few years back that I became really interested in Norway. And now after seeing Norway, I'm really set on seeing Alaska. It's been high on the list for a long time but now I can almost taste it. I was really hoping to see some northern lights on this trip but it was not my luck. However I'm convinced that this isn't bad luck, it's good luck: it means I've got another northern winter ahead! I heard the other day that Denali could be the best place to view the aurora...

Back to Dublin. I suppose the charm has changed to familiarity, and in light of a different place I'm seeing Dublin for all its warts. Every business I come across seems to be poorly, even pathetically run, and nobody seems to know what they're doing (don't try asking a question at a shop); it's probably because most people are newcomers and foreigners like me. Part of the problem, not part of the solution, I know. Toilets don't work, places with full-time cleaning staff are still chronically filthy. And of course I am living in hostels, which is about the worst representation you can get of a place. The crowds downtown did not diffuse after Christmas as I was hoping beyond hope that they might, and with the rain means people are lethally ploughing the sidewalk crowds beneath hundreds of dang umbrellas. On the bright side, there are a few familiar and welcome faces to come back to, and more to discover here.

I've got about 3 weeks left in Ireland, then it's time for the next adventure. No tickets booked yet, but my all my energy is focused on getting to that dreamed of land, the place the itchy feet have been itching for for years....... Nepal!!