The journey through Bergen continues dear reader with a new title. I'm only happy when it rains by Garbage. I assume they must have had Bergen in mind when they wrote their 1995 hit.
Sorry if the timeline seems out of kilter, but this is a post that was pulled together over four days and you need to accept that time in this post is not linear.
Haunted? |
The Venus is down there somewhere. |
Our hotel is near the yellow crane. |
Easier to see from on high. |
After a quick tour through the gift shop, it was time to descend the mountain and take the short drive back to the ship.
The following morning, we were off the ship before 9 o'clock and wheeled our bags the 20 minutes or so to our hotel. Cobble stones are quaint but they are not friendly to wheelie bags. It was a tough slog, but at least it wasn’t raining – and it was our second day in Bergen.
The view as you sit on the toilet. |
The outside wall of the shower. |
Back at the hotel after midday, we sat in the lounge and read and blogged until our room was ready. Now that was an experience. The room, not the lounge. The pictures say it all, but in Scandinavia they have these weird sleeping arrangements. Couples still share a bed but they have their own individual duvets. The theory is to allow a more peaceful sleep for both people who can then adjust the duvet to suit themselves. Well, after 3 nights I call bullshit. It made no difference whatsoever. In fact, we ditched the duvets in favour of a sheet that we brought from home. Explaining you want a sheet between you and the arctic strength duvet can be a challenge, we've found.
The bed - with our sheet. |
Our room also had an interesting shower placement. It was in the middle of the room. Visible from the hallway if the door was opened. Best to telegraph shower plans if your partner goes out.
The shower. |
Rosenkrantz Tower
It resembles a remnant keep because it is. |
Guildenstern was nowhere in sight. |
I know, of all the things to photograph. And, yes, it was real. Once. |
Well worth the visit, even if some of the more modern parts of the display are somewhat incomprehensible.
Bjerke was our first attempt to eat a more traditional style of Norwegian food. The restaurant is just near the harbour, with views of the water from some windows. We began the evening with the water views. We were seated only long enough to pour water and open the menu when the American man seated behind me gave such a solid, meaty sniff that I thought he would inhale his food. He really hawked back like he was going to spit. Classy restaurant behaviour - get a handkerchief I thought. This was followed by a gargling, throaty cough.
Jayne and I exchanged glances. Do you want to move? "No, it’ll be ok," I said. Moments later he was at it again. Sniffing to prevent a catastrophe from emerging from his nostrils, followed by a sickening cough. And so it continued, 3, 4 or 5 times. It was flesh-crawlingly disgusting. When the waitress arrived and asked did we want anything, Jayne requested we move tables.
We gathered our coats and water glasses and were moved to other side of the restaurant where the window looked out over the square. No water views, but I could breathe the air freely and our ears and sensitivities were no longer assaulted.
They love a statue, they are everywhere. |
As we left Jayne heard the man's wife say, "That was a good call, them moving tables". What does that mean? He knew he was ill but came out anyway? Disgusting on so many levels.
The meal was good, if too large for us. Prinesfisk. Cod with shrimps, white asparagus, parsnips and potatoes, fried cabbage and butter puff pastry. The scallops I had as a starter were perfect.
Olivia is, from what I can see on Google, a chain of Italian restaurants across Scandinavia. We ate here on our second day for two reasons. First, it is the name of our newest granddaughter. Second, it was still raining and this was the closest option for dinner.
Good food. |
It was good pasta and pizza. I would be happy to trust my appetite to this chain. Not that I need to eat pizza everyday. One interesting observation here was that in Norway, they do not serve a pizza pre-cut. It comes out whole and everyone eats it with a knife and fork. Weird.
We watched the people outside dealing with the rain as we enjoyed our meal. The locals were a standout, totally unconcerned. Then I spotted a couple battling the elements, she with an umbrella and he festooned in a Bunnings rain poncho, wheeling his suitcase to whatever hotel they were staying at. Aussies, totally unprepared. Smug, I had another sip of my wine and nudged Jayne, check that out.
A legendary Norwegian poet. So says the plaque. |
Our final meal was at Fish Me at the fish markets. I'd read mixed reviews, some positive, some extremely negative. The complicating factor was there was another, more upscale restaurant next door. They probably shared the same kitchen. In the end, we opted for the more casual experience.
Winner. The food was brilliant. Scallops, again, were perfectly prepared. Jayne had fish and chips and was extremely pleased with the product. I had mussels and fries. Wow, I've never seen so many mussels in a dish. If we lived in the area this would be our go to place to eat out.
Repair work in Bryggen. |
To wrap the dining experiences, the food here is expensive. Yes, we generally have wine with dinner, but still. The pizza/pasta dinner and a bottle of wine was around $200AUD and so was the dinner at Fish Me. Not cheap when you're travelling and need to eat out almost every night. I guess if we become desperate, we have spied the first McDonalds in Scandinavia since leaving London ... only joking. About eating at Maccas, not its existence.
And that is it from Bergen. Tomorrow we brave the rain to catch the train to Oslo.
Until next time.
No comments:
Post a Comment