to Bergen

I must admit that I can only think of three Norwegians who have achieved worldwide fame and renown. Chronologically -- Henrik Ibsen (b.1828), Edvard Grieg (b.1843), and Edvard Munch (b.1863). Maybe there's another, but this is all that comes to mind right now. I mean, the lead singer in ABBA is actually Norwegian, but who knew that one! Another fun fact: although the Nobel Prize in all categories is awarded in Sweden and by Swedes, the Nobel Peace Prize is awarded by a Norwegian committee. This might explain our current leader's disdain for Norwegians, reciprocated to be sure, since he is not talked of as being a finalist.

Munch and Ibsen lived closer to Oslo. But Grieg is all Bergen. As you know, I have avoided visiting Bergen, even though I fly in and out of this city. I know it well from pictures and travel books -- it's on every cruise ship's itinerary and, too, visited by most who want to see a Norway beyond Oslo. It is rather goofy to avoid a city because it's popular, especially since I go to Paris so often, which is THE most visited European city (indeed, it's the second most visited in the world, following Bangkok). But, I go where my heart steers me and that's not always aligned with my brain (which seeks to control goofy impulses) and Bergen hit far fewer buttons than Osøyro did. Until the rains set in.

(morning view out the window)

It struck me actually on the day of arrival: I don't just want to stay in my room and look out at a fjord in the rain the whole time I am in Norway. And I became convinced yesterday, after my walk to town, that this place is beautiful, but only if it's not raining. When the weather is bad, cities have more to offer. A hike up a mountain or even a hill in pelting rain is... not fun. Been there done that, famously with Ed on a Canadian hike on the extension of the Appalachian Trail, and, too, with him, screaming down the mountain as a storm rolled in (he followed at a more leisurely pace, having zero fear of being out in a storm) while we hiked the Spanish Pyrenees. 

So I checked my booking at the very pretty Solstrand Hotel and confirmed that I have a 24 hour cancellation window. That means that yesterday, I could cancel my last night here. I did that. The idea is for me to spend my final Norwegian night in Bergen. Where? Well, I was obviously going to be tempted by the Hotel Opus XVI. This is the way one book describes it:

Much like the famed piano concerto that it’s named after, Opus XVI weaves separate parts and influences together in perfect harmony. This boutique hotel, run by descendants of Norwegian (and Bergen-born) composer Edvard Grieg, celebrates Bergen’s cultural heritage while remaining wonderfully contemporary... One of the architects behind the building, which was once Bergen’s grandest bank, was the composer’s cousin [he was the son of an aunt, on Edvard's father's side]. Today, original features such as the central hall’s marble columns and polished granite walls stand alongside contemporary, Scandi-chic design. Many of the rooms and suites are named after Grieg’s masterworks.

Well that sounds cool! I booked a room. There were only two left and I chose one with a chair, but with an awful view out onto the courtyard. On the upside, it saved me some money.

 

(the Opus XVI, once a bank, now a lovely hotel)

 

 (my room: good chair, no view)

 

(with family photos on the wall)

 

 

(the staircase still looks like it's part of a venerable financial institution of yore)

 

 

Hold on now! What did I do on this wet morning back in Osøyro, before coming to Bergen? That's easy: not much! On this trip, I'm not clicking into European time very easily so I stayed up way too late and slept in way later. I barely made it to breakfast before they closed down.

(one last look at the still busy grand dining room)

(boy, waiting for dad to get coffee)

 

 

(even as I found a sweeter table in the quieter adjacent room)

I booked a ride into Bergen for 12:30. I did not want to swim again at the Solstrand again, walking in this weather wasn't going to be fun, so I decided to go to the Spa. I could not afford a full massage (time-wise and actually money-wise, feeling prudent after realizing that Bergen was going to cost me more than Osøyro), but I thought an aromatherapy body scrub was doable. So I signed on. They scrub you, rinse you, oil you, and massage your face all in the space of 50 minutes. I've never had something like this, nor do I fret about having rough skin, but still, the Spa is very much a part of the Solstrand, so I felt good about giving myself up for a "treatment."

And it was lovely. Perhaps the best part was that in the course of the scrub, my Spa specialist (who spoke reasonably good English) chatted me up some, and I realized that this is the only long conversation I am going to have with a local Norwegian on this trip. Normally I like quiet, but this was a rare opportunity to ask some questions about living here, in this part of the country (she was born on an island close to Bergen).

I learned a few things: that her four children are grown and that she is ready to ditch her husband and find someone who will partner up and do stuff with her. Perhaps travel. She was intrigued that I should choose to be with someone in my older years who actually hates travel. I explained that it worked for us. Still, I think her search will have imperatives that weren't especially important to me. 

I learned, too, that she, like many Norwegians, hates the sound of cars close to home and will do a lot to live far away from a city's center. Walking to the waterfront and getting in a boat is a life's necessity. I asked if she skied -- after all, didn't the Norwegians invent cross country skiing -- and she explained that Bergen actually does not get much snow. But go inland and you are set!

Finally, I asked about the guest here. She explained that in the summer they do get visitors from all over the world, and there are always large groups of Norwegians celebrating stuff. Family birthdays, anniversaries, etc. In the winter, the hotel is especially popular among Norwegians because a gift certificate for a visit is a very common stocking stuffer for Christmas. So then they all use it right away. 

She then tells me to go enjoy Bergen. Off I go. 

(goodbye lovely hotel by the fjords, where anemone windflowers, roses and yarrow bloom in August...

 

 

... and where you will find plenty of bronze sculpture)

 

 

When I thought up my visit to Bergen (on the fly), I decided the best thing to do on a rainy day is to go to the Edvard Grieg Museum in the neighboring Troldhaugen. This was the home of composer for 22 years. He wrote many of his best-known works in the little garden hut there, while his wife, Nina (!) toddled around the house fixing him things and singing his music. He was her first cousin. She was his muse. (They had only one child -- a girl who died soon after turning one.)

Edvard and Nina Grieg finished building Troldhaugen in 1885. They lived there when he was home in Norway, from April 1885 until his death in 1907. Immediately after, Nina moved to Denmark, where she spent the remainder of her life. And it was a long one: he died of heart failure at 64, she died at 90. Maybe Denmark served her well. 

Now, these would have been useful notes if I had actually gone to Troldhaugen. But in the end, I chickened out (even though I had pre-ordered a ticket to the museum and expected to stay for a piano concert of Grieg's music there). To actually visit Troldhaugen, I would have had to jump out in Bergen, leave my suitcase at the hotel, and get right back into some mode of transportation -- bus, taxi, whatever -- and go the 25 minutes south again. No thanks. Besides, it wasn't raining (yet)!

I left my suitcase at the front desk and went for a walk instead. The proper way to see Bergen would be with a guide book, perhaps starting at the shore and the fish market, going to the museum that houses a nice collection of Munch canvases (though the Scream is in Oslo), and certainly going up the hill (by funicular) for the view of the city from above. That's what every visitor does. Not me. I went looking for a nice coffee shop instead. I checked out three and finally picked the Fjak Chocolate Shop and Cafe. Here's what I saw in my wanderings about the old town:

(what's blooming in Bergen? geranium and hollyhock, among other things)

 

 

(this is a town of fish)

 

 

The Fjak is beloved by locals and by Asian tourists. I saw many of both.

I picked their "typical Norwegian" cookie with caramel (so good!) and I also bought a bar of chocolate because I've been missing a bite in the evenings before bedtime. I swear I sleep better after a square or two of it melts in my mouth. Or so my heart tells me. (My brain knows better.)  I chose a small one with (I kid you not) reindeer lichen and lingonberries. Now if that doesn't sound Norwegian!!

And then I went back to the hotel and considered life, and Bergen, and the days ahead (I leave for Warsaw tomorrow) from my comfortable chair, listening to Grieg compositions on YouTube.

Toward evening, I did a bit more of walking and this time I went for the obvious high points of this city:

Yes, that would be the fish market, which is extremely popular among visitors because it offers many opportunities to sit down and order seafood on the spot, inside and out. (Notably, it also sells berries which I swear, tempted me even more than the fish! Real wild blueberries! You never see these in Midwest markets where there are only locally cultivated ones, sold only for a short few weeks.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(and many currants) 

 

 

(that is the largest crab I have EVER seen!) 

 

 

 

 

And of course, I had to take a look at the iconic row of colorful houses lining the old wharf of Bergen, referred to as the Bryggen Quarter of the city. If you've seen only one photo of Bergen, I'm sure it will have been of this row of houses. In truth, this is somewhat misleading, because Bergen is nothing like this image elsewhere. And it reminds me a little of Warsaw in that Bryggen is a UNESCO World Heritage site, even though these houses have burnt down (they are wooden) and have been rebuilt many times over. Warsaw's Old Town is also a UNESCO site and it, too, does not have the original structures, but there as here, the buildings were meticulously reconstructed according to old patterns, and so UNESCO regards them as accurate renditions of what once once there (as it does here).

 

 

 

 (the greater wharf area:)

 

As for dinner -- well, I had found a place not too far, but because it is Saturday, all the good tables were already booked, so I would have had to eat very early. I was enjoying my Grieg in my room too much. In the end, I chose to eat in the hotel dining room. 

(this, too, has that feel of a great big hall in a bank!)

 

 

That's how much it really didn't matter -- so long as the food is fresh and honest, and with a hint of Norway, I'm happy.

(scallops, pickled peaches and some stuff I dont recall now, but the white topping is possibly the loveliest ever -- little flowers. Edible I hope!)

(monkfish with mushrooms and peas and garlic, plus potatoes in an amount I would expect at a Polish table!)

 

 

(stairs to walk down, but elevator to go up!)

 

Tomorrow evening, I should be in Warsaw.

with love...